


It's not the fall that kills you

by Zoadgo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Collection Work, Drabble Collection, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-14 13:54:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 27,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3413141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles (usually less than 1k and unedited) for The 100</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What If One Of Them Died In Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _omfg yes to the clexa kiss but what if you know they get it going and one of them you know DIES IN BATTLE!!!!?!?!?!! both already lost one loved one so that would be a disaster i mean asdfghjkl. crying_ posted by [johnmcrphy](http://johnmcrphy.tumblr.com/post/111748376458/omfg-yes-to-the-clexa-kiss-but-what-if-you-know) on tumblr

It happened so quickly. Everything happened quickly when it came to fighting for your life, Clarke had learned, but this left her breathless. One moment, she was at war with Lexa and plotting her death, the next Lexa helped her be strong beyond the death of her lover. Then they were working together, and Lexa was annoying the hell out of Clarke by being so annoyingly _right_ most of the time, while still being such an idiot about basic things like allowing Clarke to save her life. And the next thing Clarke knows, she's kissing Lexa next to maps of their battlefield and plans for attacking the dam.

And now she's laying in Lexa's arms, an intense feeling of belonging wrapping around her. For the first time since landing on Earth, she understands what the feeling that drove Bellamy to those rousing speeches was. Finn had been invigorating and lively, but here, laying in the grass with Lexa clutching her tight - _too tight _\- Clarke just feels entirely comfortable. She smiles up at the beautiful girl above her, seeking her eyes but only seeing streaming war paint.__

__"Lexa." Clarke's surprised at how weak her own voice is, and Lexa doesn't respond to it. She doesn't open her eyes or say anything, just stays motionless, clinging to Clarke with one hand pressing on her chest exceptionally hard. It had hurt a moment ago, but now nothing does. Everything is just.. warm._ _

__"Lexa." Clarke whispers again, more insistently. The Commander opens her eyes and meets Clarke's gaze, and Clarke flashes another grin. "I like it when you hold me like this."_ _

__Lexa nods and Clarke can see her throat work as she swallows hard. The hand not pushing on Clarke's chest makes its way into her hair, fingers gently parting and combing it._ _

__"Maybe one day you can lay in my lap like this and I'll braid your hair." Lexa's voice is rough but strong. Just like the rest of her. Man, Clarke wishes she had kissed Lexa more than the day before their final battle. But it wouldn't have been right before then, it wouldn't have lead to this._ _

__"Mmm, I'd like that." Clarke hums happily and closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the callouses on Lexa's fingers dragging against her scalp on occasion._ _

__"How about I do that now. Would you like to wear my braid, Clarke?" The way Lexa says it implies the intimacy of such a thing, and Clarke nods._ _

__"Yes." When did her voice get so quiet? It sounds like a whisper from the bottom of a well._ _

__The hand leaves her chest and joins the other one in her hair, and Clarke is vaguely aware of them moving over the pain that flares up where Lexa's touch had been. It feels like something is leaving her, something that shouldn't be, escaping where Lexa's palm had previously been. Clarke wants to open her eyes and look, move her hands to push it back inside of her chest, but all of that seems like too much effort._ _

__"Lexa.... hurts...." The small whispers are a lot of effort too, but Clarke knows that Lexa can fix this. Together, they have yet to face a problem they can't fix. Lexa just shushes her gently and continues her braiding._ _

__"I know, but it won't soon. Once I finish this braid, I promise the pain will be gone."_ _

__"...promise?"_ _

__"Of course. Just trust me, Clarke." Clarke can feel something falling on her forehead with a regular rhythm, but the hands in her hair never stop, and she focuses on that. The world fades away around the braid she knows is forming beneath Lexa's guidance. And sure enough, as the fingers move further from the base of her hair to the tips, the pain in her chest begins to fade. Before it is gone completely, Clarke hears three words choked out as if there were a physical object around which Lexa had to struggle to pronounce them._ _

__"Yu gonplei ste odon."_ _

__And as Lexa ties the braid in Clarke's hair, the last hint of life fades from the princess, the girl who was never meant to come to Earth, but who ruled as queen among her people on the ground._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahaha, my love for tragedy can't be restrained sometimes! Anyway, I decided to start up a collection of my drabbles, expect one update a day as I move a bunch of shit over here.
> 
> Come chat with me [on tumblr!](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com)


	2. What If Lincoln And Indra Were BFFs When They Were Younger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I want Lincoln and Indra to have been bffs when they were younger so much. Like they trained together and Lincoln always had Indra's back. please._ asked by anonymous

Lincoln never wanted to fight. His father told him he was a warrior, he had to be. Because although there were other jobs within the tribe, perfectly worthy positions, none of them carried the respect of being a warrior. To fight for your people, to hunt their meals during peace, and to spy on enemies if one excelled enough at training, there was no greater honour. His father brought him a live rabbit when he was five and told him to kill it. He refused and was given the beating of a lifetime, to show him what strength was. The next day, his father dragged him to the peripheries of the village, where the youngest of the warriors trained, and literally threw him into the midst of it all.

“Em laik kwel.” _He is weak_ “Sis em au.” _Help him._

That was the last Lincoln saw of his father for five days. The other children, the youngest of whom was 10, told him he could go home when he beat one of them in a training match. They all watched time and time again as Lincoln got beaten down, the ferocity of those who know they will spend their lives fighting and are unwilling to accept anyone who doesn't do the same fueling their actions. The first day, Lincoln tried to convince them that he didn't want to fight. The second day, he tried to fight back. But he was weak, from injuries already sustained, from spending a night exposed to the elements, and from hunger. For he wasn't even allowed to go back to the village with them until he managed to last a round. Lincoln was fairly certain he was going to die.

And then one of the older kids, one who was simply overseeing the youngest while she waited to be chosen as a second, hung behind while the rest left for the day. Lincoln was expecting another beating, but the older girl sat next to him. She spared him no sympathy, but seemed to harbor him no malice either.

"You're a terrible fighter."

"'m not a fighter."

"Not yet. But you have to be, or they will let you die out here. Pay attention, tomorrow, learn from your failure. I should think you will need to fail a lot to learn enough. And keep your strength up."

She left him a rabbit. It wasn't cooked, or skinned, or even gutted, but it was at least dead. He ended up making a horrible mess of it, but he followed her instructions and learned from that failure. Next time he would have a knife.

The third day, Lincoln woke by being kicked in already cracked ribs. He made a mental note to try and rise earlier tomorrow. The first round of punishment was termed "warm up" for the young warriors, and Lincoln learned how a person moved when they were going to throw a punch. He dodged the first few punches thrown his way in the second fight, only to be clobbered from behind, and he learned to listen to those around him. Over the course of the day, he learned not to fall down, he learned what a kick looked like before it was thrown, he learned better balance. When the others left again, the girl remained behind once more. She didn't say anything this time, and neither did Lincoln. They simply stood there for a moment, and Lincoln felt disturbingly like he was being measured. Then she nodded sharply and gestured at a patch of thick green stemlike plants behind her.

"If you can dig them up and keep them down, those are onions."

And with that she was gone for the day, once again providing Lincoln with his dinner. He made a note of the stems, every detail he could remember about them, even sketched them in the dirt while making a vow to create a book for these types of things in the future. The plants beneath the stalks were horrible and made his eyes water, but they filled his stomach, so he munched down bulb after bulb.

The fourth day, Lincoln rose early to see the other girl already there. He wondered if she always got there before everyone else. She paused in her stretches to nod in acknowledgement to him, then continued. For a moment, Lincoln did nothing and just sat there awkwardly, but then he hesitantly began to move, attempting to copy the contortion of her limbs as best as he could. It could have been a trick of the pre dawn light, but he almost imagined he saw a fond smile on her face.

Lincoln still lost every fight, but he landed a few hits of his own and he didn't get knocked down once. He learned how to recover from the impact of striking someone else, learned how to block attacks he couldn't dodge, and learned how to combine dodging, blocking, and attacking. He lasted longer in each round, and when the supervisor called the final match a draw, he felt incredibly accomplished. He was still forced to remain in the trees rather than being allowed to return to the village with the others, but it didn't seem quite as bad that day. He didn't have to spit near as much blood out of his teeth, and there was no grit from dirt in his mouth to speak of.

The girl didn't remain, though, and that worried Lincoln. He didn't know how to catch a rabbit or identify edible plants, he needed her help in order to get strong enough to beat them. And in that moment of perceived abandonment, all the forced maturity of the last three days evaporated, leaving Lincoln five years old and alone in a forest with no food, no family, and no end in sight to his "training". He sat heavily on the ground, feeling incredibly alone and lost.

He wanted to cry, but somehow he restrained himself, despite his tight throat and quivering lips. After a few moments of indecision, he braved the growing darkness, striding out into the woods in search of something that he could be certain was food. Because there was a tiny spark of a warrior, buried deep within Lincoln, that the last few days had managed to drag out. Being forced to learned from failure, get smacked down again and again, and now being left by the one person he thought he could rely on had given that spark just a hint of oxygen needed for it to become a flickering flame. Now, if Lincoln could prove he was able to care for himself, that would give it the fuel needed to stay alive.  
Lincoln's eyes adjusted to the darkness as it fell around him, everything still visible if only barely. He was about ready to give up his search and resign himself to even more learning experiences when he saw a patch of flowers that looked familiar. He inspected them closely when he got near enough to discern details, and when his brain placed them, he happily grabbed a handful of the bright yellow flowers and devoured them, stems and all. He remembered seeing the elders in the villages making tea of them, sometimes, so he hoped that they were simply for flavour and not medicinal.

The fifth day dawned with no ill effects from his dandelion supper, save a skinned knee from when he'd tripped on his way back. He stretched, even though the girl wasn't there that morning, and when everyone arrived, he was ready.

Lincoln won his first training match of the day.

In years to come, he would forget who he'd been fighting, or what he'd done to win. But he always held onto the memory of the older girl approaching him as everyone stood around, stunned at his rapid transformation from punching bag to comrade, and then way that she had informed everyone he would be joining them as a proper trainee. She had then extended her hand to him, and he had shaken it firmly

"Indra." She introduced herself as if she hadn't saved his life with her advice.

"Lincoln."

"Congratulations, Lincoln, you're one of us now." And she had given him a wink, her stony demeanor dropping for only a second, and then everyone else had swept him up in laughter and claps on the back, as if they hadn't been trying to kill him four days prior.

Lincoln talked with Indra a lot after that, so much that she gave him a nickname after the annoying bugs that buzzed around and sucked blood. But they were inseparable, as Lincoln trained under her guidance. Indra made sure that no one ever said anything negative about him after that, not that they tried to when one person who had mocked his growing book of sketches had ended up mysteriously disappearing for several days and returning with rope burn on their wrists, suspiciously tight lipped about their impromptu vacation. For his part, Lincoln never stood up to his father again, except when the man had made a comment about how he wasn't surprised Indra kept being passed over for Second. He'd never heard his father's reasoning, considering he cut off the explanation with a right hook.

When Indra did get chosen for Second, two years after the last of her group mates, Lincoln was slightly older and he saw her off with a brave face. But she had been chosen by the leader of one of the farthest ranging scout units, and he knew he wouldn't see her again until she came back as a full fledged warrior, with scars on her back to prove it. If she came back at all. When she left, he felt like a child again.

He grew into his own while she was gone, and looked forward to her return eagerly with every report that didn't include a notice of her death. It was four years before she finally walked back into the village, the same gruff expression on her face, except it actually seemed like she had a reason for it now. There was something about her that was more dangerous than when she'd left, as if she'd been a statue of a wolf before, but now she was baring her teeth and prowling. People moved out of her way, all except for Lincoln.

They stared each other down and the village conveniently forgot that they had been friends, watching the interaction as if expecting a fight to break out. But Indra had simply looked him up and down and told him he was too large to be an annoying little insect any more. They had embraced as comrades and old friends, and although it didn't go back to the way it was before, it was good. They still had each other's backs, and once Lincoln became a warrior, they fought side by side, reliving the stories over campfires and drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write a headcanon and it got away from me, I think that's all I have to say for this? Oh, and don't trust my trigedasleng, I'm not that good with it and I'm mostly guessing
> 
> [I might write you a hundred words or two thousand, or none. You feeling lucky?](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com)


	3. Murphy/Raven; Prostitute/Client AU

The bell over the front door jingles lightly, and Murphy looks up from his drink with interest. He desperately needs to make another sale today, and business has been pretty slow. He was hoping for an angry looking buff man, or maybe a woman who might have a bit of a sadistic streak, but those hopes are ruined as soon as Octavia walks through the door. All of the other prostitutes in the room visibly deflate, except for Lincoln who stands up with a stupid smile on his face. Goddamn idiot had gone and fallen in love, and nothing bad had even happened to him. Figures that he would get the one girl who’s okay with anything he does so long as they get to be together.

 

But just as Murphy is about to go back to nursing his whiskey, unwilling to purchase another even with the substantial staff discount, a slightly uncomfortable looking girl walks in behind Octavia. She glares at the room as if challenging any of them to talk to her, and Murphy will be damned if he doesn’t rise to that bait. Right now he would be willing to suck off an 80 year old for half price, so there is no way in hell he’s letting someone else snatch up the pretty brunette. Hell, he would have hit on her if they were at a normal bar, and been happy to have her throw her drink in his face. He finishes his drink and makes his way over towards them before any of the other guys have worked up the guts to try and poach a potential session from Lincoln.

 

“O, this was a terrible idea.”

 

“Come on, Ray, you need to unwind a bit, and the guys here are really nice! Lincoln can even give you pointers on who would be best for you, I’m sure.” Octavia is already tucked tightly against Lincoln’s chest with his arm around her, and Murphy feels his spirits rise. They don’t seem to be here for a threesome with Lincoln, which is good, although the other man is definitely going to have nothing good to say about Murphy. There’s always been bad blood between them, and Lincoln has spilt a fair amount of Murphy’s for imagined transgressions.

 

“Yeah, because nice has worked out for me so well in the past.” Sarcastic and angry. Things just keep looking more and more promising for Murphy. “Finn was the nicest guy I’ve known, and you know how that one ended.”

 

Murphy cuts into the conversation before anyone has a chance to reply or even protest him approaching them. Normally he might try and be subtle or wait for a client to approach him, but he doesn’t think either of those tactics will work on this one. He smiles at her and the woman looks at him with a questioning expression.

 

“Well, we’re not all nice, I can guarantee you. That guy over there?” He moves next to the girl, brushing his shoulder against hers and pointing at a foreboding figure in the corner. She doesn’t flinch or move away from the contact, which has Murphy’s heart singing. He might get a good sale, and with an attractive girl to boot. “That’s Dax, resident sadist. Never says a single positive things about anyone or anything, except for his whips.”

 

Murphy ignores Lincoln’s glare and Octavia’s questioning look, which becomes easier when the girl follows his gesture and nods, leaning into him slightly with a small shift of her body. He continues on, shifting his attention to the men around the bar. “That guy over there is Cage Wallace. He’s charming, but he’ll talk shit after you’re gone, trust me. Jasper’s funny, but after a few drinks he just whines on and on about love and women being bitches to him. And then there’s me, of course.” Murphy steps around to face her again and holds out his hand. “John Murphy, just an asshole in general. Ask the big guy, he’ll confirm it.”

 

She cocks an eyebrow over his shoulder, and Murphy can practically imagine the fury on Lincoln’s face as he’s forced to help out with Murphy’s pitch, such as it is. Hey, if this girl doesn’t want nice, that is definitely something Murphy can help with, and every man in here would say he’s the one for the job. Lincoln mumbles a “yes” and Murphy’s smirk grows.

 

“Raven.” She says, taking his hand in an almost challenging grip. “You pride yourself on being an asshole?”

 

“I may be many things, but I’m not a liar. No point in pretending to be a better person than I am.” He hears movement, and Raven nods past him. Presumably the lovebirds have gone to spend their quality time together. Murphy doesn’t glance over his shoulder to see them leave. The only person that matters to him right now is Raven.

 

“At least you’re honest. So, tell me this.” She takes a fraction of a step closer to him, and Murphy wants to close the distance between them, but he holds himself back. No matter how attractive she is, this is still business. “Do you actually want me, or just my money?”

 

“Of course I want your money.” It would be stupid to pretend he doesn’t, they both know how things work here. But Murphy allows himself to drag his gaze slowly over her, appreciating the well defined muscles in her arms and noting the black traces of oil under her nails. “If we met somewhere else, though…”

 

He trails off and licks his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. Raven smiles at his answer, a sort of twisted smile but it seems to suit her. There’s a moment where they just stand there, staring at each other. And then, finally, she nods her head once, as if she’d just decided on what to order at a restaurant.

 

“Well then, John, I think you ought to earn your money. Lead the way.”

 

Murphy considers correcting her, telling her to call him by his surname, but there’s something about the way his name sounds coming from her lips that he likes. So Murphy just grins and gestures towards his room, being very careful not to touch her until him and Raven have gone over all of the details. Once payment has been approved and guidelines have been set down, including one by Raven that he is not to compliment her at any point, Murphy finally allows himself to press his lips to hers. His first contact with her is uncharacteristically gentle, for him, but it quickly turns fierce under her guidance. The teeth on his lips and hands yanking at his hair set the tone for their session, and Murphy doesn’t mind it one bit.

 

Within a few weeks, there are two men in the room who aren’t crestfallen whenever a certain pair of stunning girls walks through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [somebodysmonster](http://somebodysmonster.tumblr.com) from an AU Prompt list!


	4. Mbege/Murphy; Partners in crime AU

Blood pumps rapidly through Murphy’s veins, sweat pouring off him in a vain attempt to cool him. He can hardly breathe, air scorching his dried throat, but he keeps sprinting. He can hear furious shouting behind him, indistinct in his current state but probably demanding he stop. Yeah, like that’s going to happen.

 

A hand slaps his shoulder firmly, drawing his attention. He glances over at the boy running next to him, who gestures to a point slightly above them with a broad grin. A slight shadow amongst the trees is all that’s there to indicate the cave, unless you already knows it’s there. Murphy bares his teeth in a smile and puts on a fresh burst of speed to race his friend up the side of the mountain.

 

They burst through the brush into the cave quickly, and don’t stop running until they’re far away from the entrance. Mbege slumps against the wall, heaving deep breaths and cursing slightly in between gasps of air. Murphy’s paces slightly, trying desperately to prevent his legs from cramping as he regains his breath and listens to the clumsy crashing of the man who’d decided to follow them into the forest.

 

“… bring it back right now. I’ve called the cops, when they find you…” Murphy laughs slightly as the blundering oaf runs right past their hiding place. Idiot, as if the cops are actually going to do anything.

 

“God, we’re idiots.” Mbege is fully laying against the cold stone floor now, and Murphy would be tempted to join him if he weren’t so keyed up. Getting chased does that to him.

 

“Yes, but we’re idiot with a prize.” He places their trophy in front of Mbege, who looks at it with a groan and buries his head in his hands. Murphy stands over the horrendously pink flamingo with a look of intense pride on his face.

 

“Why did I ever let you talk me into this? We almost got the shit kicked out of us for a lawn ornament.” Murphy laughs at his friend’s suffering and scoops up a handful of rocks, throwing them one by one at a clump of weeds. Mbege was a world class bitcher whenever they had to run. Which ended up being a lot, actually.

 

“Same reason you let me talk you into everything else. It makes one hell of a story.” Murphy grows bored of throwing stones at the unresponsive plantlife and switches to stinging Mbege’s prone form instead. The other boy just groans and rolls away from Murphy, letting him hit his back without much protest.

 

“You’re a terrible friend.”

 

“I know. But you’re the one who chooses to hang out with me.” Murphy grins slightly and drops the rest of his ammo. The jittery nerves of adrenaline where he absolutely has to move have begun to wear off, and he’s just left with the intoxicating feeling of being alive.

 

“Why do I do that again?” Murphy doesn’t answer him with words, choosing to roll Mbege over to face him instead. He grabs the back of the other boy’s neck and presses their lips together, nibbling at Mbege’s lower lip until he draws out a slight sigh. He moves on, tracing kisses and light bites over Mbege’s jaw, desperate to taste the other boy’s skin.

 

“Right, that’s why.” Mbege groans as Murphy nibbles on his earlobe, and then Murphy finds himself on his back with the more muscular boy pinning his arms above him. He just grins up at him, and Mbege leans down, hovering his lips a fraction of an inch away from Murphy.

 

“You’re still an ass, you know that, right?” The whisper sends warm air over Murphy’s lips, and he swipes his tongue over them.

 

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, and you know it.” Murphy’s acutely aware of the fact that he could just move slightly and be issing Mbege again, but he likes it more when the other takes control of the situation. Murphy has no shame about the fact that he likes being pushed around.

 

“True.” And that’s the last word that they say for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [ewal-s](http://ewal-s.tumblr.com) from an AU Prompt list!


	5. Bellamy/Clarke; Ghost/living person AU

They say that ghosts are formed when a person has unfinished business. Well, Clarke certainly had that in spades when she was hit by a car the night before her wedding. She was supposed to get married, to put on her first great exhibition, have a child, laugh with her friends. She was supposed to live beyond 22, to accomplish many things and fail at a few. But things don’t always work out the way they’re supposed to.

 

She spends a long time wandering. She travels to places that she never knew the name of. In an attempt to forget about the life that she was supposed to have, she tries to live through others. No one pays attention to a cold draft in a classroom, and so Clarke learns all she can about anything that ever interested her. When that grows old, she moves on.

 

She sits around campfires with tribes, listening to them recount their histories in languages she can’t understand. They pass on tales of their people with grand gestures and voices that have children giggling or cowering in fear. In one tribe, Clarke finds a home for a while when the shaman sets out a meal for her after she spends the night with them. He never interacts with her, but every night there’s a meal and a space for her. On occasion, Clarke can almost pretend that she’s really there. But then he dies, as everyone does, and Clarke leaves.

 

She finds herself going back to her hometown, to the house she would have lived in. She wanders its halls, tracing fingers that turn into mist over familiar walls, but not half as familiar as they ought to have been. There aren’t any pictures on the walls, and Clarke wonders what sort of family moved in here after Bellamy had left. It had to have been… fifty years or so since Clarke had last seen him, but she still thinks about him a lot. She wonders if he’s still alive, and hopes that if he’s dead he’s truly gone. Not stuck like she is.

 

She finds some knicknacks and small objects around the house, but nothing that shows her anything of the people who live there. A breath of cold air, she moves through the rooms methodically, feeling no more a part of the building than any other aspect of the world. She tries to pick up a book at one point, thinking it looked familiar, but her faint hands disappear on contact.

 

Clarke fades through a closed door, and there she finds an inhabitant of the house, sound asleep in his bed. He looks peaceful, wrinkled skin and gray hair betraying the cruel advances of time. At least Clarke will never have to experience that, she guesses. She inspects the myriad of pill bottles on his bedside table, and feels sorry for the slumbering man. It’s only after she examines the room that she actually looks at the man, and something deep within her mind stirs. She reaches out hesitantly to touch him, pulling back when she realizes nothing would come of it.

 

“Can’t be…” Her voice is a faint echo, inaudible to the living. But the man in front of her stirs, and in the crease between his eyebrows she sees a hint of someone she knew ages ago. Of someone she had left alone in the worst way. “Bellamy?”

 

“Whozzat?” Bellamy - it must be him, but he was so old - rouses from his sleep with a grumble. His eyes open slightly while the world of the sleeping still has a hold on him, and they latch onto her. Clarke stills completely as he blinks a few times, hope on his face diminishing as his mind properly wakes up. She can see sorrow set in on his face as his eyes pass through her, and Clarke wants nothing more than for him to see her. The years have been mean to him, yes, but this is still Bellamy. Still her valiant soldier, a bit of an idiot but absolutely hers. The years can’t have changed that.

 

“Oh, Clarke.” The whisper that falls from his lips is familiar, as if he used to waking up thinking about her. Clarke reaches out and touches his hand, ignoring how the touch fails to connect and just imagining what it would be like if it did. How his skin would feel under hers, how he would talk to her, how they would laugh. She stays like that until he falls asleep, tears in the corners of his eyes.

 

In the years that come, long after Mr. Blake has passed away and vacated the house that had always seemed too big for just one man, there come to be legends about it. About how any couple staying there would be unable to fight without one of them suddenly ending up outside with no memory of how they got there. Of a kind woman with blonde hair who the kids would say saved them from falling off of things or getting hurt in other ways. Of a presence, not at all malicious, that seemed to fill the house with joy whenever a child would suggest they set out a place setting for “the angel”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [murphysblake](http://murphysblake.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	6. Clarke/Murphy; Meeting in the ER AU

“So Mr… Murphy. How exactly did you manage to get attacked by a flock of crows?” The gorgeous blonde doctor walks up to the bed where Murphy is pressing a reddened cloth to the worst of the gouges on his face. Of course he would get an attractive attendant when he looked like he’d just lost a fight with a meat tenderizer.

 

“Well, that’s a long story.” She touches his wrist gently to get him to lower the rag, which of course prompts the blood to start flowing freely again. Murphy glances at the nametag on her coat, very definitely not appreciating the barely concealed curves at all. “Dr. Griffin”

 

“It looks like we’ll have a while, some of those are going to need stitches.” She immediately busies herself gathering supplies, and Murphy has a chance to assess his own situation. She looks amazing even in what was probably a regulation uniform, meanwhile the most Murphy can say for his own state is that the blood doesn’t dow up that much on his jeans. God, who knew birds could do so much damage.

 

“Well, I was talking to one of my buddies and he told me that crows remember faces. I called bullshit on that, of course.”

 

“Of course.” She responds as she pulls a stool up and sits across from him, antiseptic swab in hand. Murphy continues with his story to avoid wincing as she clean up his wounds.

 

“So he dares me. Says he’ll give me ten bucks if I kick a crow and they don’t freak out next time they see me. That was two days ago, I managed to escape them then.” He grits his teeth and inhales slightly at the stinging of his face. Like being attacked by the damn birds all over again.

 

“You weren’t quite quick enough this time?” Dr. Griffin begins to stitch up the worst gash on his face, and he chuckles slightly despite the discomfort.

 

“Wasn’t expecting it, to be quite honest. Moral of the story is, crows do remember faces. And will go straight for them.” Dr. Griffin pulls the corner of her lower lip into her mouth in concentration, her full attention focused on Murphy’s forehead, and he suddenly realizes how close they are. If it weren’t for the needle actively passing through his skin, he’d be damn tempted to kiss her just to see how she reacts. He’s pretty sure kissing a doctor in Emerg is a good way to get arrested and injured, but hey, Murphy’s had worse ideas. Like pissing off crows, apparently.

 

“Did you have something against covering your face? Or were you hoping they would damage it enough that they wouldn’t recognize you next time?” Murphy laughs lightly at that, more of a puff of air in an attempt to not move, and Dr. Griffin smiles. Damn, that is a nice smile too.

 

“Now where were you when I was trying to explain to my buddy why he had to take me to the hospital? “I was hoping they wouldn’t recognize me next time” sounds a whole lot better than “Just fucking do it, and shut up about the ten bucks”.”

 

“Well, your way seems to have worked just fine.” She ties off the final stitch with a satisfied smile, and her eyes move down to his. “There, life successfully saved.”

 

“Thanks, Doc.” Murphy smiles a little, more of a quirk at the corner of his mouth. She’s still so close to him, it would take hardly any effort to reach up and pull her to him. And if he’s not mistaken, that little flicker of her eyes was her glancing at his lips. God, he wants to kiss her so badly, and the idea that maybe she wants to be kissed by him is so tempting. The idea of being forcibly ejected from a hospital, not so much. Eventually, just when Murphy’s about to throw caution to the wind, she clears her throat and stands up, bustling around to put her tools away.

 

“So, come back in five days and we’ll remove those stitches for you. Or,” She pulls her lip back in between her teeth for a moment, deliberating on something, “I could spare your buddy the trip out here.”

 

She rips off a scrap of paper from the paper towel dispenser in the corner and grabs the pen from her pocket, scribbling something down before passing it to him. Murphy reads the surprisingly neat writing; a name and 10 digits.

 

“Clarke.” He stands up with a smile, testing the name out. “Thanks for saving my life, and I may have to take you up on that offer. Plus, you never know when the birds might attack me again.”

 

It takes Murphy a lot of restraint to not call her that evening. He caves and calls her in the morning and receives a long rant about disturbing her before she’s had coffee, which puts him in a fine mood for the rest of the day, even when he has to duck and hide his face from a murder of crows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [ewal-s](http://ewal-s.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	7. Bellamy/Clarke; Meeting at a masquerade ball AU

Bellamy shifts his mask uncomfortably, glaring at the distant form of his friend having fun. Miller had promised him this would be a great party, but so far Bellamy had just found himself ditched in a ridiculous outfit, standing by a wall with several other miserable people. He has to remind himself that he’s Miller’s ride home in order to refrain from finding some modicum of enjoyment in the pitcher of what the host had called “Bad Decision Punch”.

 

Another person who had doubtlessly been roped into coming here by her friend detaches from the crowd around the buffet table and leans against the wall next to him. She’s wearing a ludicrously poofy dark blue dress and a plain white mask that looks like she’d picked it up from the dollar store on her way there. Judging by the amount of safety pins in the dress and the plain hairstyle she’s wearing, Bellamy would be willing to bet that none of this was her idea.

 

She holds the plate out to him and he accepts the offer with a grunt, selecting a decadent chocolate covered strawberry from the plate. Bellamy’s always had a huge sweet tooth, and if it weren’t for the fact that going over there would require being nice to people, he would currently be inhaling the dessert station.

 

“Bastard.” Bellamy cocks an eyebrow and turns to look at the woman.

 

“Excuse me?” He feigns offense, actually more amused by her insult than anything.

 

“You heard me. A gentleman isn’t supposed to take the best thing on the plate, that’s just rude.” For the first time in the evening, Bellamy feels a smile work its way onto his lips.

 

“I may look the part, but I guarantee I’m no gentleman, princess.” The title seems to suit her. Even in an ill fitting dress, she seems like she could command half the room in a heartbeat. She pushes off the wall to face him, and Bellamy notices that the people who had been next to them have moved on to a less social area of the room. Poor idiots, he thinks, conveniently forgetting he had been one of them moments ago.

 

“Really? Then why don’t you prove it?” She steps up to him as a challenge, and Bellamy knows there’s no way in hell he’ll step down from it. He has the good sense to take her hand and guide her out into the slightly less well lit gardens before bending down and pressing his lips against hers. He’s tempted to kiss her slowly, savour every feeling of her against him, but she’d insulted his honour as a self-styled rebel by calling him a gentleman. So Bellamy grabs the back of her neck and rests his thumb behind her ear, pulling her close to him and biting lightly at her lower lip. She retaliates in kind, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging sharply to pull him impossibly nearer.

 

It’s not until Bellamy attempts to pull their bodies flush and her dress crinkles loudly that he remembers they’re at a ball. He pulls away slightly, smirking and enjoying the heavy breaths falling from her lips.

 

“Still think I’m a gentleman?”

 

“If I say yes, does that mean you’ll keep trying to prove me wrong like that?”

 

Bellamy’s about to make a smart ass reply when a countdown starts. Right. Midnight as the great unmasking. When he would get to learn the identity of the girl in front of him, and she would know who he is. Not that mask changes who a person is, but it does make it easier to do things without thinking of the consequences. Bellamy raises his hand to the corner of her mask as the count reaches 5, but she pushes his chest slightly to get him to step back. They reach 3, and he looks at her in confusion.

 

“If we take off our masks, we have to become people. I won’t be your princess anymore.” Bellamy hears the call of 1 and he grabs her mask, taking it off with 0.

 

“I have a feeling that you’ll still be my princess.” He takes off his own mask and holds his hand out for her to shake. “But just in case, maybe we should get names. I’m Bellamy.”

 

“Clarke.” Her grip is firm and he uses the handshake to pull her closer to him once again.

 

“Clarke, huh? The name suits you, princess.” And then he kisses her how he wanted to from the start, and doesn’t stop until Miller stumbles over to him and demands to be taken home, prefacing his request with “Sorry to be a cockblock, but…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	8. Bellamy/Murphy; Dysfunctional relationship AU

Bellamy is sitting on the couch but doesn’t turn his head when Murphy stumbles back into the apartment at 3 in the morning. Typical, doesn’t even give a shit. Murphy’s that he can hate Bellamy for this. Earlier today, when Bellamy had been nice and cleaned the kitchen, that had been the hardest time. 

He proceeds to walk to his bedroom, not caring about being stealthy. Regardless of if Bellamy acknowledges him or not, he knows that he’s there.

 

“And where the fuck were you?” Anger seeps from Bellamy’s voice, and Murphy uses it to fuel his own. He’s slightly drunk and mostly tired. He just wants to go to bed, he certainly doesn’t need a fucking interrogation right now.

 

“A club.” He answers shortly, hoping to get this over with quickly. He really wants to go shower off the sweat of the guy who fucked him in the bathroom stall.

 

“What sort of club?” Yay, more questions. He grits his teeth and answers as shortly as possible.

 

“Gay, dance.” And please let me go to sleep now

 

“Really, you went to a fucking gay club. What, you needed some dick that badly? Sucked some random asshole’s cock in the bathroom?” And Murphy knows at this point that he’s not going to be able to go to bed without a fight, so he gives up on trying to prevent it. Bellamy wants to fight, they’ll fight.

 

“No, actually, I didn’t suck his cock. I can’t really bend far enough to do that when it’s shoved up my ass.” Murphy doesn’t even hear Bellamy get up off the couch before he’s pinned to the wall. He grins at the fury on Bellamy’s face. “What the fuck do you care, anyway? Since when do you give a shit about what I fuck, as long as you get to beat me for it at the end of the day?”

 

“You think I like beating you? I do it because otherwise someone else would, and they wouldn’t be as nice as me.” Murphy laughs loudly in Bellamy’s face at that, a sharp, cruel bark.

 

“You don’t honestly believe that. You like beating me because you’re a sadist, end of story. Seeing me beaten and bruised and bloody gives you a big ole hardon, don’t you even fucking try to deny it. But that wasn’t my question. Why do you care where I was?” Murphy doesn’t know what he wants to hear, what answer will satisfy him. Right now he’s just trying to goad Bellamy, which will probably end poorly for him, but he can’t resist.

 

“You know why I care? Because your ass is mine.” Bellamy growls. Murphy shouldn’t be so turned on by this, but dammit, he is. He’s pinned to a wall by an incredibly attractive, possessive, angry Bellamy, and his dick is finally catching up to the situation. “You can suck as many dicks as your filthy mouth desires, but the rest of you belongs to me.”

 

“Really? Well why don’t you prove it?” Murphy knows Bellamy can’t back down from a challenge, and that fact continues to hold true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [ewal-s](http://ewal-s.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	9. Murphy/Octavia; Pretending to hate each other AU

Octavia’s hand stings from where it had just left its mark on Murphy’s face. She should probably feel bad about slapping him, but it was the most impressive show she could think of at the moment. There’s confusion on his face for a moment until she glances over his shoulder quickly and he realizes there must have been someone behind them.

 

“See, I knew you were just a Grounder Pounder. Civilized people not good enough for you?” The sneer on his lips is vicious, yet Octavia can’t stop thinking about how good they had felt pressed against hers just seconds ago. God, they really had to start being more careful.

 

“Go to hell, Murphy. And stay away from me.” There’s was a time when that would have been genuine, but that was long gone as far as she’s concerned. The rest of the camp, though, hasn’t quite been allowed to catch up on the situation.

 

“I don’t take orders from you, Octavia. There’s only two people in this camp that I listen to.” Total lie. He loved it when she bossed him around, and Octavia loved using that to her advantage.

 

“Then how about this? You touch me again, and I’ll cut your hand off.” Octavia storms past him in a huff, brushing against the shoulder of a very bewildered Monroe. She can feel her face heating in a blush as soon as she’s out of sight. Dammit, she’d been less worried about her and Lincoln being found out when their people were at war than she was about her and Murphy. She just knew that no matter what she said, Bellamy would kill Murphy for touching her, no matter how willing she’d been about it.

 

At dinner that night, she glares at Murphy the whole time, and he responds with a smirk. Those were their roles. She was impulsive and angry, he was controlled and evil. Everyone bought it, judging by the tense whispers. They all seemed to be waiting for the day when Octavia would finally break and kill Murphy. Little did they know she was venting her frustrations in an entirely different way with him.

 

She bumps his shoulder hard as she passes by him on her way to the dish pit. The minor act of aggression distracts everyone from the notes she drops in his lap, a simple scrawl of “Me”. Octavia had learned on her first attempt to pass him a message that Murphy was functionally illiterate, so she’d taken care to word things as simply as possible from then on.

 

She passes back to her tent with no issue and expects to have to wait for a while before Murphy arrived. But Octavia had forgotten to factor into the ocassion that Murphy like it when she was mean with him, and liked being mean back to her even more. So she had barely slipped her top off before the tent behind her rustles, and familiar hands wrap themselves around her hips, fingertips tracing over her skin.

 

“You gonna cut my hand off now?” Murphy whispers into her neck, always careful not to speak loud enough for anyone to hear. Octavia leans back against him with a sigh, tilting her head to allow him to kiss along her neck.

 

“I think I know of a better use for them.” She smiles to herself as she turns in his grasp, pressing their lips together in a slow kiss. She tugs at his hair to tilt his head back and trails her lips down his neck until she reaches his collarbone, biting hard and then soothing the area with her mouth. Murphy holds back a groan and she smiles. As cruel as they were to each other in public, it was only with the knowledge that they could be just as harsh when they were alone, and the other would love every second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [ewal-s](http://ewal-s.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	10. Clarke/Murphy; Lab partners AU

Clarke has never failed a class. She’s never gotten less than an A, and she’ll be damned if that’s going to happen now. Unfortunately for her, her current lab partner seems hellbent on ruining everything.

 

“Murphy, stop!” She keeps her exclamation down to a sharp hiss to avoid drawing the attention of the teacher. She grabs his hand and twists it to prevent him from mixing two of the solutions together and not only destroying their experiment, but also causing a mini explosion. “You could have blown us both up.”

 

“Oops, sorry.” He smiles at her and Clarke doesn’t believe that he’s at all sorry.

 

“Do you listen to anything the teacher says? That was the one and only thing she told us not to do, and then you go and try to do it.” Normally Clarke just suffers him in silence, but today marks the fourth narrowly avoided disaster, and she has had enough.

 

“I’m offended at the implication that I would ignore someone telling me exactly how to blow something up.” He responds in mock indignation, and Clarke groans. Of course he was listening, and of course all he cares about is mindless destruction. God, she wishes she’d been paired up with literally anyone else in the classroom.

 

“So you have half a brain, you just refuse to use it. Great.”

 

“I have much more important things to worry about that endothermic reactions, Clarke. Like how to piss off pretty little blondes.” The smirk curls his lips again and Murphy leans forward, reaching out for the vial she’d just removed from his hand. She snatches it away from him with a glare.

 

“Trust me, you have a natural talent for it.”

 

“You called me talented, I’m flattered.” Clarke bites her tongue and reminds herself not to throw chemicals in her face. If Murphy doesn’t ruin her grades with his sabotage, that will certainly do it.

 

“God, do you ever not have a response?” She grumbles the complaint at the graduated cylinder as she measures out solution number three.

 

“Rarely. Why do you even care so much about if I ruin the experiment or not? It’s not like it will damage your grades all that much, you’re still acing every test.”

 

“Believe it or not, but some of us actually care about the course.” Clarke keeps her attention focused on measuring and mixing, but she can see Murphy staring at her in her peripheral vision. He’s completely focused on her, paying no attention to the lab or taking notes. Clarke grits her teeth and carries on, steadfastly ignoring him.

 

“So then,” Murphy says after observing her for a while, “You’d rather I take the course seriously too, huh?”

 

Clarke sets down the vial and turns to face him. “Yes, I would appreciate that. Or at least stop trying to actively ruin everything.”

 

“Well, I think that could be arranged. On one condition, though.” Murphy smiles as Clarke narrows her eyes suspiciously.

 

“What would that be?” She turns away at that point and begins mixing together two of the solutions, in a slow and steady stream as per the instructions.

 

“Go on a date with me.” Clarke’s hand slips at that - by pure coincidence, she tells herself - and she spills half of the liquid on the table. She bites back a curse and tries desperately to clean it before their teacher comes over, but she knows he’s somewhere just a few desks behind them.

 

“Shitshitshit.” Clarke whispers to the traitorous fluid as Murphy, always so helpful, just leans back in his chair and grins.

 

“If you say yes, I’ll save your ass.” Clarke looks up at Murphy with anger plain on her face.

 

“Fine, save our mark and I’ll go out with you.”

 

Murphy sweeps his arm out to the side and leans forward in a mocking bow. Then, in plain view of everyone, he pulls the fire alarm. In the confusion as everyone abandons their projects and leaves, no one notices the spill on Clarke and Murphy’s station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	11. Murphy/Raven; Two miserable people at a wedding AU

Murphy sighs and pokes his slice of chalky wedding cake with an overly fancy fork. When Bellamy had asked him to come to his wedding, he’d agreed, happy to be a part of his friend’s celebration. But Murphy had never met the girl before, so he had no idea what sort of a scene he would be walking into. Even now, an hour after he’d arrived at the reception, Murphy’s eyes refuse to fully accept the sheer amount of ruffles everywhere in the room. The cakes, the table trimmings, the bride’s dress…. God, Murphy had never realized how much he hated white frills.

 

He pushes the cake upright from its toppled over state, and then knocks it down the other way. One bite of it had Murphy firmly convinced that no matter what the price, Bellamy had overpaid for it. But pretending to eat his cake was far preferable to standing up and attempting to socialize with the strangers here. Murphy had no idea people could be so easily offended and still survive. Perhaps it was the fact that Bellamy and him had met during their time in the military, but he had been expecting a bit more of a party.

 

“You gonna eat that, or is it more amusing as a toy?” Murphy glances up from his dessert to see a stunning woman in a deep red dress staring at his cake like it was the last piece of food on the planet. He drops the fork onto the plate with a small clatter and gestures at the seat next to him.

 

“It was entertaining, but I suppose I could sacrifice it for some conversation.” The woman smiles and sits next to him, struggling with the chair slightly. Murphy glances at her legs - and, damn, are they ever nice - noticing for the first time the slight ridge just below her knee, and the stiff lack of flex below it. She seems to know what he’s looking at and responds to his unasked question as she shovels the first forkfull of cake into her mouth.

 

“Army mechanic, two tours overseas. Would have been more, but IEDs are a bitch.” Murphy’s a little surprised at her cavalier attitude towards her missing limb, but he supposes everyone has their own way of dealing with what happened to them. Murphy had taken up street fighting for a while, before Bellamy had finally convinced him to come to VA meetings. Maybe she just dissociates from what happened to her, pretends it happened to someone else.

 

“Mechanic, huh? You guys were always among the craziest, especially when it came to drinking. Ex-Corporal Murphy, by the way.” Murphy gives her a friendly nod as way of introduction. He’s never been much of a one for handshakes, always found them more of a test of will than an actual greeting. Any “casual” interaction that can have seminars taught on it is not casual enough for him.

 

“Raven Reyes, nice to meet you.” She smiles at him over the cake that he’s surprised she’s managing to eat with such ease. He’d eaten some pretty questionable things in his day, but that travesty of a dessert was easily in the top ten.

 

“How can you stomach that?” Raven laughs in response to his blunt question.

 

“It is pretty shit, isn’t it? But I was promised a vegetarian alternative, and apparently Roma thought fish would cover it. Right now I could eat a cooked shoe, sans salt.” Murphy grins at that one and glances around the room to see if there’s anything he could scavenge for her. Unfortunately the wait staff are incredibly efficient at their jobs, and the tables lie barren except for a few straggling pieces of the godawful buttercream encrusted monstrosity. He does, however, see the door that one of the servers disappears through.

 

“Hey Raven?” Murphy’s eyes are locked on the door, formulating a plan that brings a grin to his lips, “How would you feel about a little mission?”

 

Raven quirks an eyebrow at him, but upon following his gaze she grins. “If it gets me some food, I’m down.”

 

While it does get Raven a semi-decent meal, it also gets her and Murphy barred from the premises and ejected from the party. But as Murphy and Raven sits on the steps of the building and enjoy her improvised left-overs meal, he decides that he likes this company far better than the stuck up idiots inside, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [ewal-s](http://ewal-s.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	12. Bellamy/Murphy; Meeting at a support group AU

Murphy winces as he lowers himself gingerly into a stiff plastic chair, a cup of lukewarm shitty coffee clutched in his hand. He sips from it occasionally out of boredom more than anything else. God did he ever not want to be here, but it’s not like he exactly had a choice.

_“Look, you fought for our country, and I respect that. But if you get caught doing this shit again, we’re going to have to arrest you for real.” The police officer handed him a piece of paper with an address and a time. “Here, they could really help you.”_

_“Sure.” Was Murphy’s only response._

 

He’d gotten there early, definitely not wanting to draw attention to himself by coming in late. There are a few people, men and women about his age or a little older, milling about and talking like old friends. None of them are laughing, but that’s to be expected. Murphy can’t remember the last time he laughed without blood on his face.

 

He shifts his coffee to the other hand and groans as the simple movement causes his ribs to ache. God, he really is lucky that the cops had shown up. It was stupid of him to have taken on more than one opponent, but the skeevy back alley brawls that had made him feel so alive for months had started to bore him like every other aspect of life. So he’d decided to step it up a notch, and now his muscles and bones were paying the price.

 

“Alright,” Murphy hears a deep voice cut through the indistinct murmur of the gathered people, “I think we’re all here, so if you could take a seat.”

 

Murphy sighs again as people sits around him, all of them fading into the grey dullness that claims everything since he’d come back for the war. No, it wasn’t a war. It was a peacekeeping operation, or that’s what he had been told. It had sure as hell felt like war, death and life mingling together into one constant depressive high that was impossible to describe or explain.

 

“I see some newcomers here this week, and that’s great. Don’t be afraid to share. I’m sure that whatever you’re feeling, we can understand.” Murphy doesn’t want to bother moving his head in order to locate the owner of the voice as he walks towards the chairs from somewhere behind Murphy, so he just sips his coffee again. God, it tastes even worse cold. He wonders if they’d be able to understand not feeling anything.

 

Finally, the man who had been speaking comes into Murphy’s field of vision, and he regrets not having expended the energy to see him earlier. Because this guy stands out in a way that none of the other blurs of humanity around him do. Maybe it’s something to do with the grave confidence with which he carries himself, or his tousled curls, or the navy blue shirt clinging to a body that could still pass any physical exam. Whatever it is, Murphy finds himself putting his drink on the ground next to his feet and leaning forward to give his attention to the man.

 

“Welcome to this week’s VA support meeting, I’m Bellamy, and I’d like to start by talking about the culture shock that we can experience when coming home.” Murphy finds himself entranced by the deep rumble of Bellamy’s voice, and the words that he would normally have scoffed at finally mean something to him. He’s not sure what yet, but he knows that they’ve made an impact. He sees the faces of those around him, and although he doesn’t stick around for more refreshments, he actually remembers details about the evening. The amount of people, the sounds of the chairs, Bellamy’s name. It’s not much, but it’s more than Murphy’s had in a long time, and more than enough to bring him back the next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [ewal-s](http://ewal-s.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	13. Mbege/Murphy; Meeting in the ER AU

"What’s your name?" The question comes out of seemingly nowhere, prompting John to open his eyes and peer over his fingers which are barely holding the torrent of blood from his nose at bay with the help of an old rag. The guy standing next to him and peering down at John doesn’t seem obviously hurt or sick, which at first makes him angry, until he sees the state of his hand. Pale skin like his should never be on the verge of turning black.

"John." The man snorts and shakes his head.

"Nope. What’s your last name?" John narrows his eyes, thoroughly confused as to how he could apparently be wrong about his own name.

"Mbege?" This time is comes out as a question. Surely he couldn’t have lost enough blood from a broken nose to forget his own identity?

"Better. Mbege, move your stuff off that seat so I can sit down." The command and superiority in the guy’s voice makes him want to do the exact opposite, to throw more stuff on the chair if he had it, so John does absolutely nothing. He just stares him down, hoping his blood spattered shirt and probably black eyes make him sufficiently intimidating. The man just heaves a sigh and gestures at the room around them with the non mangled hand.

"There is literally no where else to sit. Move your stuff." Still, John doesn’t want to do it. But he does note that there aren’t any other seats, and he knows his mother wold have beaten the shit out of him if she were there for not moving his backpack onto the floor. He does so slowly and begrudgingly, never breaking eye contact with the pale guy who just seems amused by the whole thing. As soon as the seat is clear, he slumps down into it and smirks.

"Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?"

"Are you always this much of a prick?" Not that John himself was much more of an angel than this guy, but still. Something about him reminded John of a snake, an asshole in a much more sly way that John.

"Pretty much." Well, at least he’s up front about it.

"Why did you tell me I was wrong about my name, by the way?" The man lets out a little huff of air, somewhere just short of a chuckle, and leans forward in his chair.

"Same reason that we’re going to be friends. Because my name’s also John. John Murphy. Calling either one of us by our first names would just be too confusing." He goes to extend his hand to shake, but then glares down at the damaged digit. Well, that’s something John - the other guy is right, that would be confusing - something that Mbege can identify with, getting personally offended at your body when it breaks down and fails you. Even if that failure came about, say, from a guy punching you in the nose because you “made his brother gay”.

"And why exactly would I be friends with you?" Mbege shifts slightly and groans when he jostles his nose.

"Because I broke my hand on the guy who beat the shit out of you. "Made him gay", what fucking bullshit is that?" That, Mbege didn’t know. Maybe this Murphy guy overheard the exchange, it’s not like it would have been difficult what with the yelling. If he’s telling the truth, maybe having a snake on his side isn’t such a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [pbandjmurphy](http://pbandjmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	14. Clarke/Murphy; Ghost/living person AU

Murphy can’t remember dying, or even living, for that matter. He knows he’s dead, because he spent a few centuries watching people die, and a couple of them could see him afterwards. But none of them stuck around very long, a few decades at most. All Murphy knows is being dead, and no matter how much time passes, he learns nothing expect for how things die.

He takes a certain pleasure in finding unique deaths. There’s only so many heart attacks one can watch before they become bored with the whole process, so he starts to seek out death. Old folks homes can be entertaining on the rare occasion that someone dies in an… interesting way. For example, the only heart attacks he has patience for anymore are during orgasm. It’s always the funniest aftermath, even though it has lead to a few granny ghosts smacking him as he cackles in the corner of their room.

From the nursing homes he had gone to hospitals. For some reason he had the knowledge that people died a lot in hospitals, and what a hospital was, without being able to remember ever having been in one or seen one. Those deaths are peaceful on occasion, or horrifyingly gory. He would love to watch the ICU all day, but there were always far too many other ghosts for his comfort at the hospitals, and he could never stay at one for long.

He began to hunt for accidents, lost hikers, and plane crashes. Even though he rarely caught them, what did it matter? It’s not like he was getting old, or time actually meant anything to him. No, Murphy spent his eternity hunting death, which he himself seemed to have been denied the end result of, that of passing on to whatever was next. Through all of the lifetimes he idly passed, it never once occurred to Murphy to follow any of the paths that life offered, to take in scenery or learn things beyond how long a human could live when their flesh was being melted by av-gas fueled flames.

That is, until the day that Murphy found himself drifting through a large city, which one he couldn’t be certain. He was looking for a murder, and he thought that he’d found one when a dark shape detached from an alley to follow a pretty blonde girl down the street. He followed them shamelessly, for there were no other spirits around to chide him for his curiosity.

The girl seemed completely unaware of her followers, ducking into a back alley as if it were a short cut she had taken a hundred times. Perhaps it was, but this time it would probably kill her. Poor pretty blonde girl. And then Murphy moved a little closer to her and saw her fiddling with something in her pockets, and he grinned. Maybe this would be a bit of a fight, that would tide him over for a decade at least.

The would be attacker attempted to close the distance, pace quickening obviously. But the girl still did nothing to try and escape, just added some whispering to the fidgeting. Maybe she was praying for luck, living people had the strangest ideas about what would prevent their death.

And then the man reached out for her shoulder, and with a shout of some language beyond Murphy’s comprehension from the girl, he found himself grabbing the man’s wrist and throwing him against a wall. The man certainly seemed shocked, but not half as shocked as Murphy who found himself, for the first time in his knowledge, corporeal. He was also unable to release the man, so he settled for turning his head over his shoulder and shouting at the girl.

"What the fuck did you just do?!?!" It took effort to shout. He had to inhale and exhale. Good god, if this was being alive, Murphy was glad he had no memory of it.

"My apologies, spirit, I’ll release you as soon as we’ve dealt with this problem." The blonde was now shimmering with some form of energy that made Murphy simultaneously want to run to her, and very far away from her.

"Who the fuck is we? And I have a name, you know, Murphy. Not that you cared to ask before turning me into a fucking human.” For some reason, her use of “spirit” to address him was more upsetting than the sudden feeling of gravity. Jesus, the living were tougher than he gave them credit for.

"Of course I would get a whiny one." The mumble is quiet, but Murphy hears it anyway and it makes his hands contract in rage, causing the man beneath them to grunt in pain. Thankfully he hasn’t tried to talk yet, but judging by the look on his face when Murphy glances at him, he’s on the verge of fainting anyway.

"You know, my mother always told me to be kind to spirits, but you’re rude. So I’m Clarke, and we are going to wipe his memory, and then I’ll release you once you apologize.” Murphy snorts.

"I’m not fucking apologizing, I didn’t do anything wrong."

"Then you’re going to be bound to me as a familiar for a very long time." Clarke crosses her arms, and Murphy sighs. Of course this would be his luck, getting stuck in a living body - although he doesn’t feel a heartbeat, so maybe it’s just a body - as the slave of an easily offended girl. Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	15. Octavia/Lexa; Fake relationship AU

"So you’re the girl who posted the craigslist ad?" A note of doubt creeps into Octavia’s voice as she glances over her coffee cup at the girl sitting across from her. She’s gorgeous, seems a little bit more serious than Octavia normally likes, but it suits her.

"Yes. Is there a problem with that?" Something about the tone of her voice makes the girl - she’d introduced herself as Lexa - seem a little more dangerous than when she’d been sitting practically motionless moments before, and Octavia smiles.

"Nah, it just doesn’t seem like you’d have trouble finding someone to actually be your date." Lexa’s jaw clenches slightly and she places her own cup on the table very carefully.

"I don’t want an actual date. It’s not something that interests me, but unfortunately my parents don’t buy that. So they said I needed to bring a date to my cousin’s wedding, and I want to make them suffer for that. I thought I was relatively clear about that in the ad." Octavia’s smile becomes far more genuine at that. If there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s causing trouble.

"Oh, I’m very definitely down for that. You just didn’t mention how pretty you were in your ad." Lexa clears her throat and Octavia thinks she sees a slight blush creep onto her cheeks as she reaches for a hasty sip of coffee.

"Well," Lexa clears her throat, "aside from that we’re in agreement? You’ll be my date to the wedding, you get free food and drink, and free reign to talk about whatever you want to around my exceptionally religious and straight-laced family."

"Sounds like a party. When and where should I meet you, and what level of inappropriate do you want my dress to be?" Lexa smiles at that, finally, and Octavia finds that her initial impression may have been wrong. Maybe Lexa just gives off a serious air, because the suggestion of "Do you own anything white?" doesn’t strike Octavia as the sort of thing someone without a bit of a rebellious streak would do. 

They exchange numbers and chat a fair bit leading up to the day, what had started as Lexa informing Octavia about which relatives where touchy on which topics gradually morphing into Octavia sending Lexa pictures of people on campus sleeping in public, and her piling stuff on top of them until they woke up.

Octavia doesn’t wear white to the wedding, although the bright red dress with impossible cleavage is probably more risque than a conservative ivory piece would have been. She causes hell, crossing many things including “lighting a bouquet of flowers on fire” and “eating and entire tier of wedding cake” off of her bucket list. The best part of the night is Lexa’s subtle encouragements and the time that she overhears Lexa saying “Well, you wanted me to bring a date, mother.” to a very flustered looking woman.

Actually, that’s a lie. The best part of the night is when Octavia throws her arm around Lexa’s shoulders, and Lexa wraps her arm around her waist. From there it only gets better, to an outrageously passionate kiss in the middle of the dance floor that puts the happy couple to shame and leaves both parties panting. 

It’s after midnight when they leave and go back to Octavia’s apartment, so she counts that as the best part of the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [pbandjmurphy](http://pbandjmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	16. Monty/Miller; Lab partners AU

Miller groaned as he walked into the dim shack, chemicals already burning his nose even though he hadn’t descended into the basement yet. He’d had to kick his roommate out last night for, funnily enough, being a druggie and not paying his rent. And stealing Miller’s left shoes. Seriously, who does that. So he had not slept well, considering their argument had turned into a fight which turned into a warning from the cops, who thankfully did not search the house.

The guard that Miller is relieving chuckles as he climbs up the ladder to change and pass off his gear. They work in three offset rotations, so there’s one fresh guy every few hours and always at least three people in the basement. The ground floor is monitored by cameras, not that anyone more dangerous than the occasional homeless guy wanders into their little establishment. Well, little above ground. Below is an entirely different story.

"Rough night?" Sterling claps him heavily on the back as Miller unlaces his street shoes and stows them in a plastic bag, the rest of the clothes he’ll wear home following them.

"You have no idea." He pulls on the coveralls that all of them wear in case of a spill and straps his gun on over top. Sterling hands him a shotgun with a chuckle as he begins to do the opposite of what Miller had just done, scrounging his own bag of clothes from under a rotten floorboard.

"Oh, I think I have some idea." At Miller’s inquisitive grunt, he continues, "That idiot Dax went and got himself caught skimming product, so we had to fire him, and you know how messy that gets. So we’ve been down a guy all night on production. Replacement should be here some time during your shift, I think. He was supposed to show up before I left, but you know how things get when the Boss gets involved."

Miller just grunts at that and they part ways, Sterling leaving for the blessedly clear air outside as Miller fits his respiration mask over his mouth and nose, prying up the panel that reveals the trapdoor to the real operation. He shuts it behind himself, avoiding throwing the heavy lock that seals out any unwanted guests. If they’re expecting a new guy, he’d just have to open it again to go get the poor bastard anyway.

And of course, just minutes later the cameras chirp at them, causing a minor commotion until someone recognizes the slightly nervous looking Asian boy on the monitors. So Miller gets sent up to greet him and give him the rundown of how things work, somehow always the guy assigned to newbie duties. He climbs the ladder swiftly and throws open the hatch with another grunt, causing the boy to jump and stare at him wide eyed.

"Do you always enter a room like that?" He laughs slightly, obviously a little shocked, "Because if so, that’s impressive."

"Yes, because standing out is the goal when running an illegal drug operation." Well, the boy seems to have a good sense of humor, hopefully he handles Miller’s sarcasm better than Dax had.

"Fair point. I’m Monty, by the way." He smiles and holds a hand out to Miller, and there’s just something different about him, almost similar to Sterling. He doesn’t have the same aura of danger most of the workers have, and it makes Miller smile in response.

"I’m Mil- Nathan. I’m Nathan." It just seems right for Monty to know his first name. "The others call me Miller."

"Nice to meet you, Nathan."

Miller had never considered asking to be assigned shifts at certain times, but he wondered if he could arrange it so he worked mainly with a certain production member. He also wonders where Monty was moved from, and if he needs a place to stay in the city, considering Miller has a recently vacated room and no ulterior motives. Well, maybe a couple…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [pbandjmurphy](http://pbandjmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	17. Bellamy/Murphy; Childhood best friends AU

Bellamy had known Murphy for as long as he could remember. Their mothers had been friends, both being single moms in a relatively conservative neighborhood and turning to each other for support. They’d been raised together, might as well have been brothers because they spent their entire childhood together, switching between Bellamy’s mom in the day while Murphy’s mom was at work and to the other house at night. They went to the same schools, got in the same fights, and were basically inseparable until Murphy’s mom died. Neither of them had really noticed her declining state, it was so gradual, and they were asleep most of the time she cared for them anyway.

But when she passed, a man in a suit dragged Murphy away from Bellamy after the funeral. He wanted to fight the man, would have if he’d been younger, but he knew no good would come of it. Either that guy was a distant relative, or he was Child Services. Either way, Bellamy was helpless to prevent him from ripping part of his life away.

The first few months were hard after Murphy was taken. He tried to find him, to get in contact, but no one knew what happened to him. In time, he resigned himself to finding Murphy when he was old enough to do something about it. In more time, he settles for memories.

His mother adopted another kid at one point, clearly feeling the loss of what had been basically her second son quite strongly. Octavia was already ten years old when she joined their family, and quite a wild girl at that, but she fit right in. Bellamy protected her at school, and whenever he turned his back, she started a fight. It wasn’t like having Murphy back, not even close. But it was good.

When Bellamy moved away from home, he never did much more than a casual google search to find Murphy. He wasn’t sure if his last name would even be the same, had he been adopted, and “John” isn’t exactly the most unique first name. He was tempted to search harder, but Bellamy knew the pain that would be waiting for him if he found nothing. Or if the person he found wasn’t like the brother he had lost after all.

In the end, it’s Murphy that finds Bellamy, not that either of them knew it at the time. No, Bellamy just felt something pressed to his back and heard a demand for his wallet in a voice that was similar to someone he’d heard before, but not close enough to place it. And Murphy just knew that the guy he’d been planning on mugging had suddenly spun around and hit him in the jaw hard enough to knock him to the ground.

It was a violent fight, but Bellamy had always been larger and stronger. Eventually he got Murphy pinned and finally saw his face. It took a moment of squinting and a good long while of denial before his brain reconciled the pretty, albeit bloody, boy beneath him with the face recalled from when they were younger.

"Murphy?"

"B-Bellamy?"

There were a lot of tears, and Bellamy didn’t want to ever stop hugging Murphy. They went back to his place, after the seventh glare from a passerby, and caught up on the years that had passed. Murphy running away and living on the streets, Bellamy’s sister. Catching up doesn’t take them very long, actually, and no matter how much they had changed, when Bellamy sits next to Murphy on the couch that becomes their and not his aver the next few weeks, it just feels like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	18. Murphy/Emori; Meeting at a party while drunk AU

Emori looks at everyone around her and decides she’s not nearly as drunk as everyone else. It’s a good thing, and exactly what she wants. She always wants to be at least one level more sober than everyone else, because that way she can remember all their embarrassing incidents to blackmail them with the next day. She can also shrug off slobbering, overly handsy frat boys, which she does as another one asks if her prosthetic has different attachments “if you know I mean.” Ugh, sometimes collecting dirt on people and playing a few drinking games was not worth it at all.

The party is still going strong, so Emori grabs herself another beer and settles in an out of the way corner. College parties are fun to watch people at, but she’s not much of a fan of participating after people start getting beyond tipsy. No, Emori zones out for the most part, wondering if she can use “the mating habits of athletics majors” as a topic for any of her papers. Maybe Prof Kane, he seems like he has a decent sense of humor.

And of course, another carbon copy beefcake decides that her sitting by herself means she’s lonely and needs his company. Not that she would mind company, just not his.

"Hey baby, whashsup?" His eyes are seemingly unable to focus on any one thing, and Emori gets up with a huff only to have her wrist grabbed in an infuriatingly strong grip. This guy can hardly sit upright, how is he still that strong?

"Not your baby. Let me go." Emori was definitely going to need another drink after this. Thankfully, there was a crowd gathering, so nothing was likely to happen if she didn’t want it. But she really wants to punch that guy right about now.

"Nah, come awn, siddown." He tugs at her wrist and almost succeeds in pulling her off balance. As she stumbles, Emori feels something that definitely does not belong on her ass grabbing it.

And so Emori smiles sweetly and leans down to the man currently groping her ass, puts her hand on the back of his neck, and headbutts him. Hard. His grip immediately drops as he roars and clutches his now bleeding nose, and the crowd backs up as a now fully sober Emori drops back into a lower stance, ready for a fight, however brief it may be. The frat boy drops his hands and growls something vaguely threatening, getting ready to charge at Emori if her reading of his body language isn’t totally off.

And then a few things happen at once. There are simultaneous shouts of “Oh shit!”, “Fuck, Murphy!”, and “Look out!”. There’s the sound of metal creaking and then everyone looks up, just in time to see a boy clinging to the chandelier drop his grip and fall, heads poking over the second floor balcony to watch him land… Directly on top of Emori’s would be opponent, who crumples to the ground with the slender boy on top of him.

"Sorry!" Emori looks for the person on the second floor who shouts that, and finds a curly haired boy when the guy who had fallen shouts back.

"Bellamy, if this guy is dead, so are you!" Emori steps forward and checks the frat boy’s neck for a pulse as the guy - presumably Murphy, from the shouts earlier - clambers off of him.

"Don’t worry Bellamy, you’re safe." She shouts, and people begin to go back to the party now that they know no one is dead. It’s amazing how alcohol can make things blow over so much quicker.

"I wouldn’t go so far as to say that." Murphy grumbles as Bellamy shouts down a "Thanks!" and disappears. Emori smiles up at him and stands.

"I could go kick his ass for you, if you’d like. Considering you took out my opponent." He glances down at the unconscious body and quirks an eyebrow.

"Not much of an opponent, and neither is Bell. Nah, it’s all good. You know what I would like, though?" He smiles at Emori and she nods her head to prompt him to continue, "I would like to get much more drunk than I currently am, somewhere not here."

"That sounds good. I’m Emori, by the way." She extends her hand, and Murphy shakes it.

"Murphy."

It turns out, in the end, that Emori likes drinking cheap beer in a forest with Murphy far more than anything she’d every done at one of the parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [pbandjmurphy](http://pbandjmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	19. Monty/Wick; Roommates AU

When Jasper moves out, again, Monty decides to get a new roommate. He loves Jasper, but he needs to learn the consequences of moving in with every girl who will take him, without having Monty as a safety net. So Monty rents out Jasper’s room to someone that Raven had said needed a place, Kyle Wick. And Monty falls in love.

Not with Wick, as he prefers to call him because it sounds way cooler than Kyle, but with all of his stuff. Because Wick apparently dabbles in every forms of science known to man, for all that he says he’s an engineer. He brings with him sets of chemicals which Monty knows Jasper would love, and tools and equipment that Monty has only dreamed about purchasing. 

"You’re more than welcome to play with it, as long as you don’t break it." Is the sentence that starts a friendship when Monty is lusting after some circuitry kits. It turns out that although Wick is good at a lot of things, he’s not particularly good at computers and wiring, which comes as easily to Monty as breathing. So every time that Wick makes a joke when Monty burns toast or sets water on fire (he doesn’t even know how that one happened), Monty installs a virus on his computer. And considering Monty attempted to cook dinner before ordering takeout an hour ago, Wick’s woefully unprotected computer receives another unwanted visitor.

"Monty!" The shout is almost simultaneous with Monty hitting execute, and he grins at his screen as footsteps thump across the hall.

"Yes?" He puts on his most innocent face as Wick storms into his computer room. He points violently out the door in the general direction of his room.

"Fix it." Monty just grins and swivels his chair around.

"Have you tried turning it off and then on again?" Ah, the joke as old as time. Of course Wick doesn’t laugh, just heaves a long suffering sigh and drags a hand through his hair.

"What do I have to do to get my computer back?" There’s a note of desperation in his voice that Monty loves. Teasing Wick is his favourite past time.

"Stop teasing me about my cooking?" Standard opening offer

"Not gonna happen." Wick snorts

"Clean the dishes?" Standard counter offer.

"You know that’s not an option." The third offer was always the one that Wick took, and Monty was counting on that. He asks it in the same tone as the previous questions, already getting up because they already know that Wick will accept whatever the third offer is and Monty will go type a few things on his computer and fix it.

"Be my date to the Comp Sci Christmas Party?"

"Of course." Monty is already smiling and heading out the door before Wick goes, "Wait, what?"

The computer is fixed in a matter of seconds, and when Monty looks up, he sees Wick standing in the doorway and grinning down at him.

"Did you just trick me into going out with you?" Monty sets the laptop off to the side and stands with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Maybe, you going to take it back?" Of course he wouldn’t force Wick to go with him, but… He would really like it.

"Nah. I’m just impressed. That’s the sort of shit I would pull." Monty squeezes past Wick in the doorway with a smile.

"What can I say, you’re a bad influence on me."

"Oh, you don’t know the half of it yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [octxvixmurphy](http://octxvixmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	20. Mbege/Murphy; Meeting at a festival AU

Murphy is so bored. While running one of the meat stalls at the Night Market had sounded like an easy way to pick up some quick cash during the summer, and it gets pretty intense for about an hour or two, at the very start and end of the it is soul crushingly dull. All he does is recount his cash fifty times and throw out meat as it burns, and puts new skewers on the grill.

That is until the stall next to him undergoes a change of staff on the second week, the grouchy old man who had been running it - into the ground, if Murphy’s any judge of things - getting replaced by a younger guy, probably around Murphy’s age. And very definitely easier on the eyes than the grouch had been.

The first night, Murphy is content to just watch him as he doles out deep fried ice cream to the masses, never showing the stress during the mid shift rush, and never showing boredom during the dull stretches. Murphy wonders how the guy always finds something to do, and on the second night, he uses that as an excuse to strike up a conversation.

Murphy leaves his booth, leaning casually on the counter of the other stall so he can keep an eye on it and make sure it doesn’t burn down. The boy is busy doing something with the fryer, so Murphy simply waits until he turns around, definitely staring at his ass. Murphy may be many things, but he’s not a liar when it comes to checking out cute boys’ butts. When the boy does turn around, he jumps a little when he sees Murphy.

"How long have you been there?" Murphy shrugs.

"Not too long. I’m John Murphy, by the way." Always get the introduction out of the way early, Murphy had learned that when he’d become friends with someone and never actually learned their name. The guy chuckles lightly, which Murphy decides is a lovely sound, and nods at him in greeting.

"I’m John, too. Mbege. Nice to meet you." 

"Nice to meet you as well, Mbege." He likes the way Mbege’s name feels when he says it, and Murphy hopes he has many more chances to do so. "Do you know why they replaced the old guy who was here? Not that I mind the upgrade, mind you, the view’s a lot better now."

"I, um." Mbege clears his throat slightly after stammering, and Murphy concludes that he’s the most adorable guy in the market. "I’m not supposed to say."

"Hmm, okay then. You can tell me how you manage to not die of boredom here. You’re always doing something whenever I look over here." And Mbege actually blushes at that, so no way in hell is Murphy letting him get out of answering it. Mbege picks up a broom and focuses on sweeping the tarp spread under the booth.

"Well, you see. There’s this guy who I want to check out in another booth, but every time I try to, he’s always staring at me." Yup, Murphy is grinning like a fool right now. "So I try and look busy in order to cover up my glancing at him, and the time passes a lot quicker."

Murphy can’t help but just smile at that. Cute boy thinks he’s cute, huh? Oh, Murphy has lots of ideas on how to pass time now, but unfortunately he can’t do any of them until after the get of shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	21. Bellamy/Murphy; Childhood best friends AU

It all started the day that Murphy ran away from home one day when he was five and his mother was in a drunken rage. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but this time he didn’t make it to his usual hiding spot in the forest. It wasn’t his mother that stopped him, or a concerned adult. It was a boy, only a few years old that him, who Murphy blindly ran into when coming around a corner.

He had crumpled to the ground, crying in the way that only little children do, and the strange boy had held him. He said things about killing demons, but Murphy didn’t really listen. He just knew, for the first time in his life, that he was safe. That day was the day that his still formative mind made the connection between Bellamy Blake and safety.

Every time his mother would rage at him, or whenever she passed out drunk with no food in the house, Murphy would run to Bellamy. Bellamy took care of him, possibly out of pity at first, but later out of genuine affection. They started to hang out together as Murphy grew older and their interests were less varied. Bellamy taught Murphy things about life that his mother should have, and Murphy had Bellamy’s back unconditionally.

They never went to the same school, the age difference being slightly too large for that, but Murphy was in the same class as Bellamy’s younger sister. Octavia barely tolerated him, but it allowed him to tag along in middle school whenever Bellamy would come and pick up Octavia in a battered old Pontiac that he called his “baby”. Bellamy never objected to Murphy being around, and whenever Murphy would go more than a day without some interaction with him, he would actually risk the wrath of Murphy’s mother in order to check on him.

Bellamy didn’t go to college, taking a local job as an auto mechanic in order to help his mother out and help support Octavia through college. Murphy loitered around the shop and did his best not to learn anything. While Bellamy was driven and working towards a better future, Murphy only sat through school all day to keep up the appearance that everything was okay, so he wouldn’t get taken away. Had the two met later in life, they probably would have hated each other, but that’s the way of childhood friends.

Octavia went to college, Murphy dropped out, and Bellamy kept working. Murphy picked up a job at a pizza place where he got leftovers at the ends of the day, and he would always grab a full pizza of mismatched slices in order to share with Bellamy and Aurora. They were the family Murphy had never had. Perhaps if Aurora had been his mother, rather than the drunken mess that he saw increasingly less of, Murphy would have had more ambition. But no, he was content earning his meals and hardly anything more than that.

Murphy had always known he was attracted to boys. It was obvious to him, and strange to so many guys weren’t. But he had accepted it, tried a few boyfriends and had several more flings. He came out to Bellamy one day, and he’d just snorted and said “Okay. That doesn’t mean you can’t hand me the socket wrench, though.” and that had been that. Until Murphy started really thinking about Bellamy, differently than he had before.

He tried to ignore his growing infatuation, even when he would sigh Bellamy’s name while jacking off and fantasize about the other boy catching him. It wasn’t until he shouted it while being fucked by some random guy that Murphy was forced to do something about it. If it made someone lose a boner, it’s a serious topic.

"You know, Bellamy." Those words are easy. Murphy sighs heavily and leans his head back against cool stone, taking a small sip of liquid courage. He normally avoided drinking, but when the situation calls for it, well…

"Bellamy. You were always there for me. Remember when we were kids? Back before you knew what was wrong, when I was just some weird kid crying in the street? I wonder what you thought of me." He shakes his head slightly and pushes on. "It doesn’t matter now. What matters is what I think of you. And… and…"

Murphy’s throat closes on the words. He can’t bring himself to say them, but he knows he has to. He turns around, now kneeling to face the stone he’d been leaning against.

"I l-love you, Bellamy. I’ve always loved you." Tears fall from Murphy’s eyes, and this time no one is there to hold him. There’s nothing to make him feel safe anymore. "And then you had to go and get yourself killed before I could tell you, by my own drunk driving mess of a mother. You would think the universe has a limit on how much it can hurt someone, but no."

He takes another shaky swig of the burning liquid. Bellamy was always the one who had plans, the one who had a future. His should not have been cut short while Murphy’s own gradual demise drew on. He lets out a shaky laugh as the bottle leaves his lips, brown paper bag crinkling in his hand.

"You would be so disappointed in me if you saw me drinking. You would probably chug the whole thing to make sure I didn’t get a drop of it, wouldn’t you? Well, here you go, Bell." Murphy upends the bottle over the fresh grave and shakes every last drop out of it. "Still keeping me safe, aren’t you?"

Murphy stands on shaky legs and sniffs hard, wiping away his tears. He presses his lips to the cold headstone and whispers one last “I love you.” before walking away. He would have to start turning his life around, making a future, providing for Octavia and Aurora. He would have to do at least what half of Bellamy had done, and then maybe, one day, way down the road, he would get to see Bellamy again, and he would be proud of him. One day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [octxvixmurphy](http://octxvixmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	22. Bellamy/Wick; Partners in crime AU

Bellamy flings himself into the back of the waiting van, engine already purring, throwing their payload onto the floor and whipping out his handgun to fire some rounds back at the guards who had discovered him and given chase. 

"Fucking drive, Wick!" He shouts over his shoulder as the vehicle lurches into motion, almost throwing Bellamy out of the back as he hauls the doors shut.

"No need to be so rude, I know the drill. I suggest a plan, you ignore that to do your plan, everything goes horribly wrong, and I save the day. Sound about right?" Bellamy doesn’t need to see Wick’s face to know the shit eating grin that’s spread across it. He lays against the blessedly cool metal floor of the van with a groan.

"Just shut up and get us out of here."

"Pick one." Fucking hell, why did Bellamy pick the most annoying guy on the planet to rob jewelry and antique stores with?

"Get us someplace safe, Wick." A few sharp corners later, and they’re blending flawlessly into traffic, machines on the dash chirping quietly at Wick as Bellamy heaves himself up and climbs into the passenger seat. Wouldn’t do to get pulled over after they’d just escaped, for something as stupid as him being in the back without a seatbelt.

"Well, we’re on the radar, but it seems like they got the dumbest security guards there. They’re going to be looking for a six foot five hispanic man with a neck tattoo. You didn’t get a tattoo while you were in there, did you?" Bellamy just glares as Wick as he glances over at him with a smile. "Well, it looks like racist cops worked in our favour this time, they won’t be looking for either of us."

"Good." And Bellamy tunes Wick out for the rest of the trip to their shitty motel, the third one this month where they weren’t the most criminal folks there. Bellamy’s blood is racing in his veins, and even the drive simply takes the edge off. He’s still buzzing with an adrenaline high and the sense of accomplishment when they haul their take into their room and Wick locks all of the locks on the door behind them. Bellamy drops the bag with an unceremonious clatter and pushes Wick against the door as soon as he turns around, Bellamy’s mouth claiming his roughly for a moment before he moves down to biting at Wick’s neck and removing their clothes.

"Shit, Bell, maybe I should let you do you plans more often. If this is the result of you getting shot at, that is." Wick reaches out for Bellamy’s shirt, and Bellamy grabs his wrists, pinning them to the door briefly.

"You never shut up, do you?"

"Not unless I have something better to do with my mouth."

Well, Bellamy’s plans aren’t always total failures, and he thinks he can come up with one or two ideas for what do with that piece of information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [pbandjmurphy](http://pbandjmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	23. Emori/Murphy/Mbege; Partners in crime AU

When people gather together in a crowd, say, walking down a busy street, they stop caring about things. Because they adopt a certain herd mentality, where they can’t step out of line first, or they might be rejected. Murphy had heard many stories about people getting attacked in broad daylight and no one doing anything to help them, but until he saw the phenomenon occurring once, he didn’t believe it.

It had been a disturbingly bright day, and Murphy had been wandering around the downtown core for no particular reason, just wasting the day away with his best friend and occasional fuck buddy, Mbege. They had been walking down one of the busiest streets when they heard the shouting. A woman, yelling at a man. They had run towards it, always ready for a fight and a potential reward, but Murphy was pretty certain it would be handled by the time they got there.

Except it wasn’t. The woman was struggling with a man over something, and as the two stood in the entrance to the incredibly visible alleyway, they saw the man backhand the woman and rip whatever it was from her hands. He clearly intended to sprint off with it, but id Murphy knew one thing is this world, it was how to run. In seconds, he had the man thrown to the ground and Mbege was helping the woman up.

A few more seconds and the woman pulled out a gun, pointing it at Mbege, demanding his wallet and telling Murphy to let her brother go. Which he graciously did, after smashing his head into the ground and knocking him unconscious. When Murphy got up and stood beside Mbege, ready to fight this girl and pray neither of them got shot, she laughed and pocketed the weapon.

"Well, you two combined seem to be slightly smarter than him. How do you feel about stealing from people?"

Murphy couldn’t say why they agreed to it, really, but the three of them ended up walking out of the alley as a team, leaving her “brother” on the ground. The woman introduced herself as Emori, and she taught the boys everything they knew about crime. In time, the three of them became pickpockets, petty thieves, and con artists. Well, artists is a fancy term for it, but they definitely conned a few people.

They grew tight, moving in together simply because it made sense. They became friends with Emori, Murphy and her bonding over sarcasm and a mutual love of teasing Mbege while Mbege and her bonded over a mutual love of dogs, which Murphy would never understand. They got a dog, one day, a mangy street pup that was the complete opposite of the fierce dog one would have been expecting. It loved all of them, especially Murphy, who ended up getting a cat just so he’d have something to keep it out of his room. He decided he liked the scrawny, mean cat he’d gotten, and he defended it to the death every time that Emori or Mbege would say anything bad about it.

Their little shack of a house became a home, and even though they lived an unpredictable life, there was a bit of predictability there. None of them ever brought anyone home, going over to the other person’s place if they wanted a casual hookup. So of course, all of them being relatively shameless as is, they took to not knocking when entering rooms, which lead to one slightly awkward encounter in which Emori barged into Murphy’s room, only to find him bent over his desk with Mbege behind him. One sarcastic offer of “want to join” that Emori took them up on, and suddenly they were all together. They had flings on occasion, but they always had each other to come back to.

It wasn’t an easy life, it wasn’t even a good life most of the time, but it was their life. And damn was Murphy ever glad that they had broken away from the herd that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	24. Murphy/Raven; Literally bumping into each other AU

"Jesus Christ!" Hot coffee splashes onto Raven’s hand, although not as much as gets poured on the boy who sprints around the corner, slamming into her left shoulder with more force than she would have thought a skinny guy like him was capable of. 

"Oh, shit!" He doesn’t shout, more whispers the expletive sharply as he spins around, shaking his arm as if that will somehow help with the scalding coffee poured over it.

"Watch where you’re fucking going, all right, idiot?" Raven has never been known for controlling her language that well, especially not before her morning coffee, which was now spilled all over a complete stranger. He doesn’t apologize immediately, which almost makes her pummel the handsome bastard. Raven has no coffee, no time to get another before class, no napkins to clean her hand off with, and absolutely no patience.

"Listen." The guy grabs Raven’s wrist to turn her towards him as he steps over and leans against the wall, orienting them so her back is towards the corner that he’d been racing around. "There’s no time to explain, but I’m going to need you to play along with this, okay? I’ll buy you another coffee if you don’t slap me."

Raven is about to tell him to fuck off, she’s not interested in whatever he wants her to play along with, but then she hears shouting and rapid footsteps approaching the corner. She turns her head to look at it, only to have strong fingers grasp her chin, and then the strange boy is kissing her.

Shock freezes her for a long moment, during which some traitorous part of her brain points out that he’s not half bad at this, and it would probably be great if she participated. But then a group of guys bursts around the corner, and one of them immediately drags him away from her, just before she can push him off and slap him.

"You didn’t seriously think that we would ignore you because of a girl, right, Murphy?" The guy currently pinning her mystery kisser - presumably Murphy - to the wall asks.

"Nah, of course I didn’t. But hey, Connor, you can’t blame me for wanting to kiss a pretty girl before you kick the shit out of me. Let’s just hope I don’t get some sort of conditioning out of this, otherwise those are going to be some very awkward boners." Raven can’t help but smother a laugh at that, and the obvious disgust on Connor’s face as Murphy goads him. She doesn’t like Murphy, but she’s gotta give it to him, the kid’s got balls. She can’t just let him get away with forcing her to kiss him, though, so Raven walks up to them with her sweetest smile on her face.

"Hey, Connor?" The boy looks at her, surprised, as if he’d forgotten she was there. She looks over at Murphy and drops the smile. "Throw in a few extra hits for me, would you? I have to get to class."

With that, Raven turns to walk away as Connor laughs cruelly.

"Oh come on, coffee girl, no need to be mean!" Raven causally flips Murphy off over her shoulder. "I still owe you that coffee, though! What do you say we make it a date, I buy you a drink, and you can bandage me up?"

"Go fuck yourself, Murphy." 

"So, is that a maybe?" Raven just snorts and keeps walking.

When Murphy shows up outside of her last class, heavily bruised with the explanation of “I have connections”, Raven blames accepting his invitation on her really needing a caffeine fix and having the budget of a college student. She doesn’t have an excuse for redoing half of his bandages that were shoddily slapped on, but when she does, Murphy doesn’t have some vaguely offensive or sarcastic comment, and Raven feels like that’s an accomplishment on par with acing an exam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [ewal-s](http://ewal-s.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	25. Murphy/Raven; One of them trying to get the other one off drugs AU

Murphy can barely stomach the stench as he slips into Raven’s ground floor apartment, breaking in through the window that he’d always scolded her about not locking. Well, until she had started shutting him out completely, almost literally throwing him out the door as soon as they were finished fucking. And he wouldn’t mind, Murphy’s not the sort of person to feel used and lord knows Bellamy doesn’t treat him any better, but there was something that worried Murphy.

It started with him seeing some empties piling up in her apartments, but that’s not a big deal, most people enjoy the occasional drink and maybe Raven had just gotten busy and not had as much time to clean. Then the empties kept multiplying each time he came over there, and then Raven’s kisses started tasting like the fumes that used to waft around his mother. Like vomit and bottom shelf booze, and that was when Murphy stopped answering her calls.

She stopped calling, of course, and Murphy hoped that she got some help. Maybe some of her friends would see that she had a problem, and they would give her a hand. Taken her to support groups, or whatever you were supposed to do. Murphy didn’t really know what the hard way of recovering from alcoholism was like, he only knew the really permanent solution, the one where you don’t crave a drink. Or anything at all.

But then Bellamy had mentioned being worried about Raven when Murphy had been over there earlier today. He mentioned something about someone’s death hitting her hard, plus he hadn’t heard from her in a while, and she wasn’t answering her phone. Murphy hadn’t said anything, had merely cleaned himself up and headed over here straight away.

He was ready for a corpse, or for Raven to be pissed at him. Or so he thought. But when Murphy finally managed to calm his stomach enough to find Raven amidst spilled drinks and messes that he did not want to contemplate, he realized he hadn’t been ready at all.

He finds her in her room, passed out with vomit in her hair, and suddenly he’s a child again. Except this time, when he creeps close with dread clutching at his throat and gently grabs her shoulder, the person groans. Person, not a corpse. And that distinction allows him to overcome the quaking child who just wants to run away from the vile scene.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" Murphy had never been good at taking care of anything, couldn’t even keep a plant alive for a week. But he had to be now. Because he knew that he couldn’t call anyone.

If he called her friends, the people that Raven trusted and valued, they would have to see her like this. They would never be able to stop seeing her like this, and she would be trapped by the same pitying stares that people gave Murphy when they learned his life’s story. So Murphy decides to take it one step at a time.

First, he drags her into the shower, grateful for the construction work he’d being doing over the last few months. He peels damp clothing off of her and dumps her in the tub, removing the stopper from the room entirely and turning on a cool stream of water. She seems to regain some form of consciousness, enough to hold herself up slightly, so Murphy turns his attention to finding something clean to put her in.

In the ends, he strips her bed, flips the mattress, and manages to track down a second set of sheets and some clean towels. Clothing is a little more difficult, and he ends up finding an ugly christmas sweater shoved in the back of her closet and a pair of torn up sweatpants that both smell relatively clean. He gathers them up with a few towels and returns to the bathroom.

Cleaning Raven up is a long process. Whenever she regains conscious control of her limbs, she slaps him away feebly. Whenever she blacks out, he has to struggle to coordinate her limbs while attempting to scrub her down with a brick of soap. But he does get her much cleaner, then he dries her off and pulls the clothes on her, picking her up to carry her to bed.

He doesn’t want to leave her, so Murphy goes around the house on a mission. Cleaning the place is not a task he can handle today, but there is something he has to do. Murphy hunts down every container that has any measurable amount of alcohol left in it, and pours them all down the drain. Let the crocodiles have a party, he’ll figure out a way to prevent Raven from getting more. Cold turkey sucks, but it won’t kill her. Probably. Maybe.

Soon after, Murphy hears a grumbled “Whatthafuck?” from the bedroom. He heads over there to find Raven thoroughly confused, plucking at her new clothes. She looks up at him with bleary eyes and frowns.

"What ‘r you doin here?"

"You’re a fucking drunk, Ray. I’m here because I don’t want you to die." She won’t remember any of this, but he’s not about to baby her. He’ll be her nursemaid until she’s sober, but he’s not going to treat her any different.

"Get the fuck outta my apartment or I’m gonna call the cops." Murphy snorts. Of course she would be pissed at him for trying to help her. Anything else would be too easy.

"Of course, Ray. I’ll be back tomorrow, though, so try and keep the vomit out of your hair. That shit was disgusting."

"Go fuck yrself."

"With pleasure." Murphy leaves the same way he came in. She may not want his help now, and he sure as shit doesn’t want to help her, but he is not going to let another person die. Not this goddamn time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	26. Raven/Wick; Police officer/person getting a ticket AU

Wick steps out of his cruiser, sighing as the pitiless sun immediately makes him hate even the summer uniform. He just hopes this lady doesn’t give him any trouble, so he can go back to his nice, air conditioned car. He walks up alongside the bright red convertible, top down, of course, and immediately wants to kick himself.

Fuck, of course she would be gorgeous, long brown hair and a dress that matched the car, smooth skin and a dazzling smile as he approaches her. She could behave perfectly fine, and she would still give him trouble, because Wick cannot control his mouth, especially around pretty people.

"Afternoon, ma’am."

"Afternoon, officer. Sorry about going so fast back there, but, well…" She smiles and pats the door next to her, "Retro here likes to go fast, sometimes you just have to take the risk."

"Well, my next question was going to be ‘do you know how fast you were going’, but considering you’ve already admitted to speeding, that seems a little moot." She laughs slightly and runs a hand through her hair, and Wick is so fucked. He’s going to ask her out, she’s going to want to get out of the ticket, it’s a tale as old as time.

”The direct answer would be no, actually, but I’m assuming very fast?” She’s not wrong, Wick had actually been slightly impressed, if it weren’t his job to stop people from breaking the law that blatantly.

"Impressively so. I’m going to need your license and registration, please." No he doesn’t, they both know by this point he’s not giving her a ticket. But he pulls his book out anyway and accepts what she hands him, primarily to find her name. "So… Ms. Reyes-"

"Raven, please, only my boss calls me Reyes."

"Raven. Do you make a habit of getting pulled over by cops?"

"I try and only get the cute ones." Wick begins to scrawl his number on the ticket, and Raven starts laughing. "For the love of god, please tell me you’re going to write me an actual ticket too."

And Wick doesn’t know what to do. She wants a ticket? She wasn’t just trying to, successfully, use her good looks to get out of it?

"I wasn’t planning on it." His tone almost makes it a question, and she shakes her head at him.

"Come on, Officer Wick, you could lose you job by not ticketing pretty girls. Not to mention any respect they may have had for you."

He ends up giving her a ticket along with his number, and she calls him that night and scolds him once again for his apparent habit of not fining anyone he wanted to sleep with. He joked that she would definitely get a ticket from him now, and she simply responded with an exasperated “oh please, you’ll be all over me at dinner”. Turns out, Raven Reyes is rarely wrong. To be fair, Wick wasn’t wrong either. She did end up causing him a world of trouble, but years later, he decided he needed a bit of trouble in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [pbandjmurphy](http://pbandjmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	27. Murphy/Raven; Living in a world where their love is taboo AU

"…I’m just saying, it isn’t right. Just because they’ve got magic doesn’t make them any better than us." Miller grumbles, ranting abut mages in the same way he does every night. Murphy sighs and takes a swig of the watered down beer that’s all he can afford.

"You don’t want to be saying that too loudly, bud. Not that you’re wrong." It really was unfair, the fact that everyone who could even shift a feather with their mind got to live literally above everyone else, supping on the finest foods in the city that floats above where Murphy and other ungifted people eke out a meager living. The mages offer them protection, or so they say, and all the luxuries of the ground are lifted to them. And if someone is struck down by a well placed fireball after having withheld goods or having said something unkind towards the mages, well, clearly they were an enemy spy.

Being ungifted fucking sucks.

"Yeah, ‘cause a mage is totally going to come into this shitty bar and overhear me. I’m willing to bet the only one who would even know it exists is Raven, and she knows my views on them well enough. Even shared them before she made that goddamn toy come to life." 

Murphy goes still for a moment at the mention of Raven. “She’s one of them now, no chance she still shares them.”

And that, of course, sets Miller off on a rant about brainwashing, which Murphy mostly ignores. It was a lie, what Murphy had said, but there’s no way that he could tell the truth. Because if Miller knew what had happened since the night that one of Raven’s mechanical contraptions gained the ability to move on its own while she was tinkering with it, there’s no way it would stay a secret. And for Raven’s sake and his own, it has to.

Much later in the night, Murphy slips out while Miller practically starts a revolution amongst the drunkards at the bar. No one will remember the rousing, half slurred speeches in the morning, which is good. That way, none of them could turn him in for hopes of a reward.

Murphy has a destination in mind as he takes a seemingly random route through the city. It wouldn’t do to be followed, so he takes a different path each time that he goes to Raven’s old workshop. The mages had quarantined it, saying something about “soul transference” and “energy current disruption”, which meant nothing to the people of the ground, except that there was an entire building that now sat empty for no particular reason. Not even squatters went there, because there was no telling when a patrol might check, and penalties for disobeying decrees were steep.

The building looms out of the shadows, and Murphy sneaks inside as quickly as he can. His eyes adjust to the gloom rather quickly, moonlight streaming in through the large windows that had one show off Raven’s works to passersby who might be interested in purchasing something. The only sound in the large building is that of Murphy’s footsteps as he moves towards the back room, where Raven’s old tools still lay.

He closes the door behind him, shutting himself in absolute darkness, takes precisely three paces forward, and taps a spot on the wall directly to his left. He’s not left in the darkness for long, because within moments of his activating the sigil, a soft light begins to fill the room. It quickly increases in intensity, and Murphy hides his eyes in his arm, knowing from experience that the bleeding of energy could and would blind him. Thank god Raven had picked up a few new skills, including healing.

"Hey Murph." Raven’s smile is as free as ever when Murphy drops his arm, the room now illuminated by tiny whisps of flames that dance around the ceiling. Raven used to bring a lamp with her on their rendezvous, but she’d learned that her teachers didn’t care if she used her powers on the ground at all. What they thought she was doing, neither of them has any clue.

"Hey, Ray. How goes betraying your people for your own benefit?" He smiles as he says it, and Raven smacks his arm.

"Do you really want to waste what time we have being an ass? You know I’m not even supposed to talk to mundanes." Murphy snorts.

"We’re "mundanes" now, are we? Well, I wouldn’t want to risk getting you in trouble for talking." He takes a step closer to her. "Was it just talking they said you shouldn’t do?"

"Well," Raven smiles and closes the small distance between them, placing her hands on his hips and then sliding them back and tucking them in his pockets. "They didn’t specifically rule out all forms of interaction.”

"Then I guess we should stop talking."

"I guess we should."

Murphy knows he would probably disappear if they were found out, or there would be an accident, or he would turn out to be a spy. Mages never interact with the people on the ground, and apparently there are laws about it that only those with magic know. But when Raven presses her lips to his and allows him to press her against the wall, Murphy doesn’t give a damn about the laws. All he cares about is Raven, and if it’s wrong for him to love her, well… Murphy’s never done much right in his life anyway, might as well follow the pattern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	28. Murphy/Octavia; Best friend's sibling AU

Murphy is intensely focused on kicking the shit out of Bellamy in Mortal Kombat when someone walks into the room, presumably the younger sister that Bellamy had mentioned at one point. He doesn’t bother looking up, knowing from the vague and not so vague threats Bellamy had given him that she was off limits, so getting that final hit on Bellamy’s character holds his interest far more. That is, until she stands next to him and starts tapping her foot.

"Do you need something?" Murphy doesn’t break his concentration on button mashing, desperately trying to just land one more strike. "Jesus, Bellamy, quit fucking jumping everywhere!"

"Not a chance in hell. Hah!" Bellamy succeeds in landing one blow on Murphy’s character, bringing them both down to their last points of health. Sudden death, oh, it is so on.

"You’re in my spot." Right, the mildly annoying presence just in the right corner of his vision.

Murphy grits his teeth as he barely avoids one of Bellamy’s attacks. “Sit somewhere else.”

"Internet is best in the house there, I need to sit there. Just move, you prick." Murphy would appreciate how bossy she is, actually, if it wasn’t for the fact that he doesn’t have a death wish. And although Murphy is one of Bellamy’s best friends, considering the fact that 90% of the school is afraid of him, there is no doubt in Murphy’s mind that Bellamy would pick his sister over him every day of the week.

"Wow, Bellamy, your sister is a real gem." He hears the girl sigh sharply, and then he finds himself unbalanced and falling over on the couch. "What the fuck, man?!"

The girl shoves his legs over and sits down in the spot that had been Murphy’s seconds prior. She smiles vindictively at him as he glares up at her. “Not a ‘man’.”

And no, she definitely was not. Holy shit, Bellamy was attractive, but his sister? She could kill Murphy and he would thank her for it, as long as she did it with her bare hands. God, she was frighteningly attractive, and unfortunately for Murphy, that was exactly his type. Just as he’s contemplating how much he values not getting the shit kicked out of him by his friend, the video game calls out to “finish him”.

Murphy looks over and sees Bellamy’s character rip out his own’s spine, and he groans as Bellamy cheers. He kicks the girl’s leg to get her attention.

"I hope your pleased with yourself, he’s not going to shut up about this for weeks."

She looks over at Bellamy, who jumped out of his chair at one point, and she smiles. Fuck, Murphy doesn’t mind losing if it makes her smile. “Oh, it’ll be more than weeks. Have fun with that.” 

She claps a hand on his knee in mock comfort, and Murphy just groans as he stands up. He stretches muscle long since cramped by the marathon of gaming him and Bellamy had been doing, his shirt riding up slightly when he brings his arms above his head. Bellamy’s sister makes a small noise, something like clearing her throat, and when he glances down, Murphy finds her hurriedly looking away from the skin he’d temporarily exposed. 

Well, that’s it, Bellamy’s going to have to kill Murphy for trying to sleep with his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [ewal-s](http://ewal-s.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	29. Mbege/Murphy; Partners in crime AU

There’s no noise in the large warehouse, save the scurrying of rats. Mbege doesn’t move a muscle, standing with a rifle in his hand and watching Murphy. Murphy is perfectly stationary as well, perched on a rusty table which holds all of the tools of his trade, staring at the man in the chair and waiting for him to regain consciousness. Neither of them knew who this guy was, really, but the Boss wanted to know something. Murphy would find out, Mbege would intentionally not hear it when the guy eventually sobbed out the information, they would get paid, and then they would go on to the next job. When the Boss wants something, she gets it.

Murphy is the first to break the silence, after several minutes of nothing. He looks up at Mbege, who quirks an eyebrow questioningly at him.

"You’re sure you didn’t kill him?" Mbege snorts at the question.

"Yes, he’s still breathing and everything. If you don’t trust me, you can knock the guy out next time." Mbege hadn’t even been especially rough with this one, knowing that the information contained in his head was particularly valuable and it wouldn’t do to damage it.

"No, thank you, far too brutish for me." Murphy throws him a small smile and then produces on of the plethora of knives from his jackets and starts cleaning his nails with it.

"Are you calling me a brute?" Mbege feigns offense. He has no illusions about his position being anything other than the muscle that backs Murphy up, and he actually quite likes it that way.

"Yes. But you’re my brute.” Mbege smiles at that. He’s about to respond, but then their job starts to wake up with a groan, and he adopts the stance and expression that he knows is the most intimidating.

Murphy’s smile as the man wakes up and lays eyes on him is all sorts of sadistic. Mbege doesn’t know how he manages to communicate the fact that he’s going to hurt these people and enjoy it without saying a word, but he definitely does. The man is already sweating and breathing erratically. THis might be too easy.

Mbege ignores everything that Murphy says. Murphy, being more valuable to the Boss, knows more than Mbege is privy to, and it doesn’t serve anyone if he learns things he shouldn’t. The first few times had been hard, but now Mbege has a method for blocking everything but the screams out, and that method is something that Murphy helped him develop.

It had started shortly after they became partners. Him and Murphy had just clicked, somehow, and gotten along immediately. And it turns out that Murphy really likes torturing people, and was wont to turn that passion loose on whoever was nearest, which was always Mbege. They only did three missions before they were fucking, and five before Murphy managed to give Mbege something else to focus on during jobs.

It was the knife in Murphy’s hand right now, one that never actually touches the people that Murphy gets information from. He simply uses it to threaten them, and every time that Mbege sees it, he thinks back to the first time Murphy used it on him. When Murphy puts down that knife to pick up a different one, Mbege imagines it’s him tied up in the chair, completely helpless to Murphy’s whims. Maybe he would ask Murphy to tie him up tonight, they both always love that whenever they have the patience for it.

Murphy strokes the victim’s skin with the knife, and the poor fucker is already crying. He hasn’t even been cut yet. The blade sneaks beneath the man’s shirt, carefully slicing the seams to bare his torso, a display of Murphy’s dexterity with a knife that makes Mbege’s pants just a little more uncomfortable than they already were. Thankfully the guy is paying him no heed, too focused on the impending pain to actually notice anything.

Mbege had never worked with anyone who loved his job as much as Murphy, before, maybe that’s why he had never discovered this love of pain. Or maybe it was something about the grace with which Murphy butchers people, or just something about Murphy himself. Whatever it is, Mbege is glad he ended up with the guy.

As he suspected, the man in the chair has spilled his secrets and is dead before Mbege even gets to fantasize properly. Murphy sighs as he cuts the man’s bonds and lets the body fall to the floor, proper sound returning to Mbege’s consciousness.

"Hardly even got to play with him, dammnit." Murphy never keeps people alive after he’s learned what he needed to, he says it’s bad form to do so. Whatever the reason, Mbege knows that this will work out well for him, because now Murphy will be slightly buzzed and frustrated.

"Hmm…. It’s a good thing you have more than one plaything, isn’t it?" The grin that Murphy gives Mbege is completely predatory.

"Yes, it is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	30. Bellamy/Wick; Childhood best friends AU and Going through a divorce AU

Bellamy places the glass on the counter of the bar with a hard clunk, last of the alcohol burning its way down his throat. He’s not drunk, not even close, because he’d done that once since receiving the worst news of his life, and had ended up spending a night in a jail cell to sober up. No, he simply wanted there to be a reason for feeling like shit, and no one looked at him twice in a bar if he contemplated the condensation on the side of his glass a little too much.

Bellamy, I want a divorce.

Six words had ripped a hole in him more effectively than anything in his life had ever done. More than when Octavia had invited his husband, but not him, to her wedding. More than when Miller and Murphy, two of his closest friends, had been killed because someone is the oncoming lane had fallen asleep and drifted over. It seemed to hurt more than the death of his mother, although time had already worked its magic to reduce the painful edge of those wounds.

This time, Bellamy was truly alone. He had no one to turn to. When life had fucked him over, again and again, he’d always had someone to crack a sarcastic joke. It rarely cheered him up, but it was exactly what he needed. Ever since they were kids, Kyle had somehow just known what to do to make everything right.

And Bellamy couldn’t even blame him for wanting the divorce, just like he couldn’t blame Octavia for cutting him out of her life. He was an asshole, and he was constantly saying and doing things he regretted. Like telling Octavia during a huge fight to not bother calling him if she saw that Lincoln guy again, because he was far too old for her and must have had ulterior motives, never mind that Bellamy had never actually met him. Well, she’d taken his advice, and he hadn’t heard from her since. Blakes hold grudges like no one else.

He doesn’t know what he had done to Kyle, but he knows it’s his fault. Bellamy sighs and leans forward, resting his head in his hands. He turns down an offer of another drink from the bartender, slapping some money on the counter instead. He needs to get out of this bar, away from the dim lights that just remind him of how dark his future is, and away from the other men who look eerily like him in their depression.

Bellamy walks home, to the house that he still shares with his soon to be ex-husband. The lights are on, and when he looks through the window, he can see Kyle focused on some notes, tapping a pen on the corner of his mouth. Walking up the path is insanely hard, gravity seeming to increase the closer Bellamy gets to the door. He stands on the porch for a moment, not wanting to go in and face the fact that the happy life that once was his within those walls is ending. 

Bright chirps of noise interrupt his thoughts, and Bellamy fishes his phone out of his pocket. Caller ID doesn’t know the number, but Bellamy answers anyway. How bad could it really be, at this point?

"Hello?" There’s no response immediately, and Bellamy is about to hang up when he hears the voice he’d last expected on the other side.

"Hey, big brother." Bellamy sits down, unable to work his legs. It had been five years since he’d last heard from Octavia, and this is the time that she calls? He has to take a moment to compose himself, tears strangling his voice.

"Kyle called me." Of course he had, because Kyle always knew what to do. He’d kept in contact with Octavia, and he would have known that Bellamy would need someone. 

"O…" The childhood nickname comes out in a croak, so Bellamy clears his throat. There are a million things he’s though about saying to her, but there are only two that matter. "O, I’m so sorry. And I miss you."

"I miss you too. Can we be family again?" And Bellamy is crying now, there’s no point in stopping it. Everything is too much, and he just nods, even though she won’t be able to see him. Yet she still responds, "Good. Stop staring at the ground and come hug me."

Her voice echoes, and Bellamy hears the sound of a car door slamming. He looks up, and there she is, his little sister, walking over to him. A strange man follows behind her, who Bellamy can only assume is Lincoln, but he doesn’t care. He just shoves his phone in his pocket and meets Octavia halfway, both of them breaking into a run.

"O, I fucked up, and I don’t even know-" He starts to babble as soon as he wraps his arms around her, and Octavia just strokes his back.

"It’s okay, big brother, we’ll figure this out. Okay? We’ll figure this out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [pbandjmurphy](http://pbandjmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	31. Bellamy/Murphy; Star crossed lovers AU

Life just loves kicking Murphy whenever it gets the chance. He thought that things had gotten better, that he’d finally managed to establish a life for himself after everything had gotten fucked up when his dad went to prison and his mom passed away. This job, helping to run one of the local coffee shops, was supposed to help him get over the past. And then the past walked in and asked for latte, in the form of a somehow hotter than ever Bellamy Blake.

It had been a reunion that was just short of tearful, Murphy trying to disguise his joy at seeing Bellamy again and totally failing. It had seemed like things were finally looking up for him. Bellamy was back in his life, they were going to meet later, and nothing in Murphy’s life would drag him away from him again. But Murphy hadn’t taken Bellamy’s life into consideration.

"God, I missed you." Bellamy’s voice is rough as he whispers into Murphy’s hair, holding Murphy tight against his chest as both of their heart rates calm down from their proper "reunion".

If it had been anyone else, Murphy would have squirmed out of their grip and left. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was Bellamy, the guy who never judged him, but never let any of his shit slide, either. They’d been so good together, even though they had to hide their relationship from their parents. Then Murphy’d been dragged out of state by some random relative or another, who wouldn’t let him contact Bellamy because “it’s not normal for boys to care that much about each other”.

"Of course you missed me, I’m amazing." Bellamy smack his shoulder playfully, and Murphy smiles. This is right, this is how it’s supposed to be.

"Don’t be an ass, Mur. Otherwise I’ll have to leave before showing you how much I missed you." Bellamy’s smile makes promises that Murphy desperately wants him to keep. But when Murphy tries to climb on top of Bellamy and kiss him again, he finds himself gently pushed away.

"Listen just, before we go any further-"

"We’ve already had sex, Bell, not much further to go."

"-there’s something you should know." No, Murphy doesn’t want to know anything. He doesn’t want to hear that Bellamy has a boyfriend, or a wife, or an STI. But Bellamy continues, even as Murphy slides away from him slightly and sits up on the bed. "I’m shipping out in two days. My unit’s been assign-"

"Get out." Any trace of the old Murphy, of the idealistic kid who actually cared about people disappears in an instant. He can’t do this, he can’t reawaken these feelings only to lose him again.

"Murphy, just listen-"

"No, you need to leave." He can’t look at Bellamy, because he’ll crumble and try and figure out some way that this can work. Eventually, Bellamy sighs, stands up, and dresses himself. And just like that, he’s gone from Murphy’s life again.

Except for the fact that he shows up at Murphy’s work the next day, apologizing and making grand speeches. And he calls Murphy “John”, which is a risky game to play. It could either make Murphy fall for him all over again, or kill him. In the end, Murphy spends one more amazing night with Bellamy before his boyfriend ships off to war.

And it sucks, but Murphy has to believe that Bellamy will come home to him. Has to hope that the risk was worth it, that loving Bellamy again isn’t going to end up getting one of them killed. But, well… Life just loves kicking Murphy whenever he thinks he’s got it good. Because “hero” suits Bellamy, but a hell of a lot less when it’s preceded by “fallen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	32. Finn/Murphy; Dysfunctional relationship AU

Finn dashes from his car to the the slightly rundown house in front of him, pounding on the front door and praying that Murphy doesn’t have a guest tonight. He can hardly hear the sound of his fist, desperately trying to make the inhabitant of the house answer quicker, over the beating of his heart. He tastes bile in the back of his throat and swallows hard. Later, he’ll probably be sick, but for now he needs to keep what little composure he has.

"Calm the fuck down, I’m coming." He hears the grumble from the other side of the door as multiple locks grind when being disengaged. The door swings open, revealing an upset but thankfully alone Murphy. "Holy shit, Finn, what happened? You’ve got some serious crazy look going on."

"I-I- I messed up. Oh god, I messed up so bad. He came at me, and I thought he had a knife, and I just meant to knock him out, but it doesn’t work like it does in the movies, and I swear he had a weapon-” Murphy cuts off Finn’s rambling by grabbing his shoulder, tight enough to pull Finn back from the brink of the breakdown he’d been about to have.

"Who came at you?"

Murphy and Finn had never been particularly close, but they hung around in the same group of people. As Finn turns and walks back to his car, and Murphy follows him, he knows that after this, they’re going to be closer than anyone else in their group. It’s not a good thing, he knows that Murphy is at least a bit of an asshole, but there’s no one else Finn could go to with this, not at this point. They reach the car, and Finn opens the trunk with the press of a button.

"Well, that’s certainly a dead guy." Murphy immediately starts inspecting the corpse, and Finn has to turn away, running a hand through his hair. God, why had he thought hitting him over the head with that hunk of cement had been a good idea?

"What do I do?" It comes out as a desperate plea, whether to the sky or to Murphy, Finn’s not sure. Murphy was more likely to be able to help, given the line of work that Finn heavily suspected he was involved in, so he turn back to the car to see Murphy rifling through the man’s pockets.

"Well, you just have to do what I say. Lucky for you, this guy’s probably a bum. No wallet, no id, just some spare change in his pockets. Now, as long as no one saw you-"

"No one did, I’m sure of it."

"Good. Then you just have to not go to the cops. Chances are they won’t even look into this guy’s disappearance, and they’re not going to have any way of connecting him to you." Finn feels sick at the idea of covering up the fact that he killed someone, but he nods anyway. Murphy smiles, and it does nothing to set Finn at ease. In fact, it feels like he’s signing a deal with the devil. "Very good. Now go into my basement and grab a few things…"

—-

"Come on, Murphy, it’s your turn to buy and you know it." Bellamy kicks Murphy’s shoulder, making him regret having chosen to sit on the ground in front of the couch. He groans, not wanting to part with the money for the ridiculous amount of pizza that they can consume in a night, and then he turns to the person sitting next to Bellamy.

"It is, but Finn’s got my back on this one. Right?" He smiles at Finn, who just nods and immediately starts dialing to call in their standard order. 

Of course Finn didn’t protest this, buying pizza is far less degrading than many of the things Murphy has asked him to do. It’s funny, though, Murphy had never actually had to say anything in order to get Finn to do what he wanted. Maybe the other guy was just grateful that the cops never questioned him, as promised. Or maybe he was using Murphy’s demands as a way of punishing himself for what he’d done. Either way, Murphy gets what he wants, so he’s happy with the informal arrangement. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love watching Finn slowly distance himself from everyone else and attach himself more and more to Murphy with each passing day. Murphy had always wanted a pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [ewal-s](http://ewal-s.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	33. Mbege/Murphy; Meeting on a train AU

Murphy is thankful that his bag is light as the woman in front of him struggles to gets hers down the narrow aisle between the seats. He’s almost tempted to pick up the damn thing for her, watching all of the seats just beyond the roadblock in front of him get taken by people who had the good sense to use to other door. She finally makes it to an empty seat and manhandles her suitcase out of the way just enough that Murphy can slip past. The train has already started moving by the time he manages to get around her, and he despairs at the idea of being stuck without a seat.

"Oh, hey, you can sit here if you’d like. My jacket doesn’t need its own seat." A voice at Murphy’s right elbow pipes up, and he glances down to see an attractive boy around his age clearing off the seat next to him. He’s moderately surprised that the guy would offer, most people tend to not move an inch unless you ask them to.

"Well, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience your jacket, but since you’ve already moved it…" Murphy shoots him a smile and swings his backpack onto the metal rack above the seats. There’s nothing valuable in there, Murphy had fully intended to spend the trip alternately sleeping and staring out the window. 

"I’m sure it doesn’t mind. I’m John, by the way." The guy extends his hand and Murphy shakes it, the angle making the standard greeting slightly awkward.

"Well, thanks for the seat, John. I’m also John, but most people call me Murphy." He wonders if he ought to introduce himself to the people sitting opposite, in case they happen to be a group of really friendly people, but the couple there is already fast asleep, heads resting together and sharing a set of earbuds and a blanket. How disgustingly cute.

"I guess you can call me Mbege, then, to avoid confusion." The seat that Mbege had cleared for Murphy is the window seat, so he has to squeeze in between the slumbering couple and Mbege in order to get there. He figures that Mbege won’t even notice if he brushes against him slightly more than necessary.

"Well then, Mbege, don’t mind my ass in your face for a minute." And Murphy chuckles softly as Mbege blushes a little. Well, maybe Murphy won’t spend quite as much time staring out the window, he’s found something far more interesting to hold his attention.

Just as Murphy steps in front of the guy and begins to side step to his seat, the train shudders violently as it runs over what was probably some debris on the track. Off balance as he is, Murphy ends up falling backwards heavily, landing directly in Mbege’s lap. 

"You okay?" Murphy thanks any god that may be for having done this, because holy shit does Mbege ever feel good pressed up against him. He shifts slightly, just settling himself rather than moving to get up, and hears a slight intake of breath from behind him.

I’m more than okay, Murphy wants to say, but instead he responds with, “Yeah, you?”

"I’m fine." There’s a pause, and then Mbege swallows hard as Murphy leans back against him, feel a promising pressure against him when he shifts his hips. "Do you want to get off of me?"

"Not particularly." Murphy hears a whispered ‘fuck’, and he smiles, leaning his head back against Mbege’s shoulder and smiling at him. "This seat works just fine for me. You?"

Mbege clears his throat a few times before responding. “Y-yeah, this is fine.”

Murphy can’t help but press a kiss to Mbege’s neck and then dragging his teeth lightly over the spot, thankful that all the other passengers are either asleep or lost in their own little worlds. Mbege groans softly, and Murphy decides that this is going to be the most fun train ride he’s ever been on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	34. Murphy/Octavia; Exes meeting again after not speaking for years AU

"So you’ll be there, right?" Octavia smiles over her phone. Clarke was worrying over nothing, again.

"Of course, Clarke, I wouldn’t miss yours and Raven’s big day for anything." There a huge sigh over the line, and Octavia almost laughs at it. Why would Clarke think that she would be a no show at two of her best friends’ wedding?

"Thank you, it means a lot to us. Oh, and one last thing before I let you go."

"Hm?"

"Murphy is Raven’s best man. Alright, gotta go, bye!" The line goes dead, and Octavia is frozen completely still for a moment. Murphy, John Murphy, the ex of all exes, is going to be at the wedding. Is going to be a prominent part of the wedding, and thus impossible for Octavia to avoid. Shit.

Octavia and Murphy had broken up in one of the biggest fights of her life. They had always been fighting, both of them just being naturally passionate, but this time they hadn’t had crazy hot make up sex after. It had been rough on Octavia after, and she hadn’t seen the guy since. For all their disagreements, she had truly loved him and they’d been together for years. It wasn’t easy to get back to normal after that, but she’d managed. And now she was going to have to see him again.

There’s no way she can miss the wedding, no excuse she can think up that Clarke and Raven will believe, so Octavia simply ignores it. She buys a dress and some matching shoes, books the time off, sets a reminder in her phone, and books a hotel to stay in. It’s a few hours drive back to her home town where the wedding’s being held, and she’s pretty sure she’s going to want to drink. But when all of that is done, Octavia simply focuses on her work. Thankfully there’s never any shortage of petty criminals for her to chase down and arrest, so the time passes quickly without thought of the dreaded reunion that’s sure to occur.

And then her phone chirps at her one morning, informing her of the time and location of the wedding the day before it’s actually going to happen. She packs her things with a smile, moving around her relatively modest apartment happily. She hasn’t seen her old friends in a far while, far too long for her tastes, and it’ll be good to reconnect. When part of her mind tries to remind her of Murphy, she shuts it down.

The ceremony is gorgeous, and Octavia is glad that she learned the beauty of waterproof makeup at the last one she was at. She cries, but not nearly as hard as Bellamy does. They’re both smiling, though, and they couldn’t be more proud of their friends. Octavia doesn’t even focus on Murphy for more than a second, just long enough to note that he seems a little… different. More composed, maybe, than the last time she’d seen him. 

Octavia almost thinks she might have gotten away without Murphy noticing her, but halfway through the reception, when Octavia is sitting alone at her table for a moment, someone sits next to her and intrudes on her thoughts with a familiar voice.

"Hey there, Tave, how have things been?" And god, if his nickname for her doesn’t bring Octavia right back to when they were together. But there’s no hint of superiority in his voice, or of teasing. It’s almost like he’s asking her a genuine question, which would be interesting.

"Hey, Murph." Octavia debates a snarky response, one of the quips that would have started a fight years ago, but she doesn’t find it in herself to do that. Although she has no doubt he’s still a sarcastic ass, Murphy seems to be at least attempting kindness, and she decides it’s worth it for the happy couple to avoid a confrontation. "I’ve been… Well, I’ve been alright."

"That’s good to hear." He leans back in his chair and smiles slightly. "I was an idiot, you know."

Octavia snorts. “Yeah, I know. I think that was one of the major factors that lead to us breaking up.”

"Well, that and the fact that it’s hard to be with someone who’s always right." They would have fought over these words back then, but now it almost seems good. Just gentle teasing, none of the malice, neither of them being defensive. Octavia doesn’t try to stop the smile that creeps onto her face.

"I don’t know if it was so much me being right, or you just always being wrong." Murphy chuckles, and she’d missed that sound. Despite all the rough patches, they’d had some good times.

"Touche, I can’t even fight you on that one." He glances over Octavia’s shoulder and nods to someone, standing up and sighing slightly. "Well, my best man duties call me. Maybe we should catch up some time, and I can show you that I’m right on occasion these days."

"That would be something to see, I’ll take you up on that." Why had she said that? She should have never wanted to see him again. She should hate Murphy, he’s still saying the same shit he always did. But… it’s different. They’ve both changed, she guesses, and somehow the same words mean entirely different things. Maybe they could actually like each other, now.

They do end up catching up, and then some, after the reception. It turns out that although the fire that had once fueled their fights has died down, the passion between Octavia and Murphy hadn’t faded at all with time. Just this time, when Murphy pulls her hair just the way she likes, and Octavia bites that one spot on his neck that drives him wild, the pain is good, without the lingering ache of the emotional beatings they used to lay on each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [pbandjmurphy](http://pbandjmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


	35. Murphy/Raven; Brand new neighbours AU

Why the hell did Raven decide she wanted to “do her own thing” and “discover her independence”. It had seemed like a great idea to move far away from her hometown and everyone in it, and she even had enough money for a few months rent so she wouldn’t be super pressed for a job. But now, as she lugs yet another stupidly heavy box out of the back of her truck and glares at the out of order sign on the elevator, Raven really wouldn’t mind someone to help her.

She’s already done this trip three times, and she has another seven boxes waiting outside. She prays no one will steal anything, not that her stuff holds any more than sentimental value. There’s no point in slowing down to worry about that, so Raven just readjusts her grip on the box, ignores her screaming muscles, and starts up the stairs

Raven’s glad that here seems to be no one in the halls, because by the time she reaches her new apartment on the fourth floor, she’s sweating, angry, and in no state to make a first impression. She sets the box down next to her door and fishes her keys out of her pocket with one hand as she rakes her hair back with the other. She had also packed all of her hair ties. Okay, so planning wasn’t Raven’s strongest point when it came to her personal life.

The locks slides open easily, and Raven opens the door again. She hadn’t even had a chance to walk around her new place yet, she’d just been putting the boxes in the entry hall and going back down for another. Eleven boxes, why did she need that much stuff? Sure, two of them were her tools that she needed to make a living, but still. Did she really need to move all of her clothes? Goddman, she should have had a moving away bonfire and burned most of her shit.

She closes the door behind her and locks it again, taking a moment to rest her forehead against it. The painted wood is so much cooler than her exertion flushed skin, and Raven doesn’t want to go back for another box, but she knows she has to. Just as she’s about to push off of the door and repeat her trip, she hears the apartment next to hers open. She looks up quickly, and immediately regrets her “I don’t give a shit about looking good because I’m moving” clothes.

"You know, if you’re confused by doors, I can tell you they work just the same each time." The unfairly attractive guy leaning against his own doorframe smiles at her, and Raven must have shown her utter confusion at his stament, because he elaborates. "I figured you must not know quite how they work, considering you keep opening and closing yours, and now you seem like you were just staring at it."

Raven didn’t think her cheeks could heat any more than they already were, but her body continues to amaze her. She can’t come up with a response right away, merely turns her body away from the door towards who she is desperately hoping is her new neighbour as he walks over to her and extends his hand.

"I’m Murphy, by the way, and yes I am always this much of an ass." Raven shakes his hand firmly, cursing how sweaty her palms must be from carrying her stuff.

"I’m Raven, and I’m usually more of an ass than this. I’m afraid moving doesn’t leave me with my wit in the best shape ever."

"Well, that would explain why I haven’t seen you before. And the door thing. Don’t you have anyone helping you move?" Raven scratches the back of her neck awkwardly.

"Nope. I thought it would be a good idea to get a fresh start, and now I deeply regret it." Murphy nods his head and huffs a light chuckle.

"I get that. Trying to start over, and forgetting that means being alone. I did that whole thing myself, I just didn’t have a super attractive neighbour to help me move in." He winks at her, and Raven laughs.

"Oh, is there a hot guy in that apartment?" She gestures over her shoulder with her thumb. "Maybe I should ask him to help me out, that is a good idea."

Murphy inclines his head slightly with a grin. “Fair enough. Or you could start unpacking in your apartment, and I could finish hauling your boxes up.”

"How do I know you won’t steal anything?" She narrows her eyes at him, but she’s still smiling. Murphy just shrugs.

"You don’t. I guess you’re just going to have to trust me." And Raven is reminded of all the time’s Finn had asked for her trust in the past, whenever she had confronted him with suspicions of him cheating on her. He was married to the girl that he’d denied the existence of now, so Raven frowns slightly.

"Trust hasn’t worked out that well for me in the past." 

"Me neither. Want to not trust people together?" Well, Raven does need the help. And Murphy seems pretty cool, maybe she could convince him to hook up her TV and BluRay player if she ordered pizza or something. 

"Sounds like fun." Her smile returns, and she tells Murphy which truck is hers, heading into her apartment to finally do a walkaround and open her first box.

Murphy doesn’t steal any of her stuff that day, or any time in the future. He complains about her lack of furniture until Raven drags him to Ikea with her, saying that if he’s going to sit on her couch all the time - he claims her TV is better than his - he has to help her carry and construct it. Together, they furnish her apartment, and it’s through Murphy that it actually becomes a place Raven’s happy to call home. He introduces her to his friends, all petty delinquents in some manner or another, but thoroughly lovely. Her apartment becomes their go to place, because they can always hop next door to raid Murphy’s fridge when hers is empty.

"Not trusting people together" gets thrown out the window, but Raven and Murphy keep the together part. Her apartment becomes theirs, and Raven’s glad she had decided to leave everything behind, because moving had brought her to the family that she’d always wished she’d had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [anonymous](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com) from a tumblr AU prompt list!


End file.
